The Stone
by Allied Hero
Summary: Or the one where everything could have been different if Harry's perception of Slytherin wasn't tainted from the beginning, and Draco had been just a little bit nicer, the git.
1. The Train Ride

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

" _George!_ "

"Only joking, mum."

Harry couldn't help but smile as he heard the red headed twins goad their younger sister from the train window. It seemed she had begun to cry at the prospect of being left at home while her brothers attended Hogwarts for the year, though to be honest, he didn't blame her. As the train began to move, a wave of excitement surged through his body – he didn't know where he was going, but wherever it was had to be better than living with the Dursleys.

Outside, Harry watched as the view of London quickly turned into the suburbs. Row upon row of houses flashed past the window as the train built up speed, and he found himself daydreaming about his unknown destination. What Hogwarts looked like, the spells he would learn, flying on a broomstick, whether or not there was a way to turn Dudley completely into a pig –

The compartment door was suddenly yanked open and Harry was instantly brought back to reality. He whirled his head around to see a boy about his age dash over the threshold to the compartment, sliding the door shut just as quickly. The boy, already dressed in his robes, was panting heavily, and slumped to the ground against the door. Several seconds later it was clear why, as another two heavy set boys ran down the corridor straight past their compartment.

Once Harry had gotten over the initial shock he realised he recognised the other boy, whose eyes remained shut as he tried to catch his breath. The white blond hair and pale pointed face could only belong to the boy he'd met at Madam Malkin's in Diagon Alley on his birthday.

Harry shifted in his seat, and the blond boy's eyes snapped open as he realised he wasn't alone. His eyes widened slightly as he noticed Harry staring at him, equally as shocked.

"Oh, I was just –" the boy cut himself off as the recognition seemed to be mutual. "Wait, I know you. Weren't you at that shop when I was getting my robes?"

Harry, still surprised at how much had managed to occur within the span of a minute, barely managed a nod. The other boy looked as though he was about to speak again when pounding footsteps along the carriage corridor silenced him. Outside the compartment, the two heavy set boys from a minute earlier stopped in front of the door to catch their breath. The taller of the two suddenly noticed Harry, though rather than opening the door, chose to get his attention by banging on the window instead.

"Oi!" he shouted, his voice slightly muffled. "You seen a blond kid come down this way?"

Harry glanced down at the boy in question, who frantically shook his head. Regardless of his poor first impression of the blond, the other two students looked as though they weren't too friendly themselves, and the boy had to be half their size.

Finally, Harry found his voice. "I haven't, sorry."

The shorter of the two grunted before they both took off down the corridor the way they had come.

"Thanks," the blond said, finally getting to his feet. He glanced down at the seat opposite Harry and seemed to consider it for a moment before finally sitting down.

Harry couldn't quite suppress his curiosity. "I'm sorry, but who were they?"

"Oh, my friends Crabbe and Goyle – Vincent and Greg, rather." At Harry's surprised look, the boy smirked. "They're alright, I guess. A bit thick, though."

Harry thought 'a bit thick' was an understatement, though he didn't say so. The boy continued.

"The both of them haven't shut up about what they want to buy off the food trolley ever since they arrived on the platform, and that was nearly an hour ago. If you'd had to listen to them going on about Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans for the past hour," he rolled his eyes, " _you_ would have pretended to play a game of tag too."

Harry had no idea what Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans were, though given how little he'd been able to contribute to their last conversation, he wasn't about to say so.

"I have a cousin who sounds like them," he finally said. "His name's Dudley. He'll eat just about anything."

That managed to get a half smile out of the boy. "Yeah, that's definitely Vincent and Greg." He paused for a moment. "I'm Malfoy, by the way. Draco Malfoy."

He held out his hand to shake. Harry paused for a moment, wondering whether he should accept it or not. Their last conversation hadn't left him with a very high opinion of the other boy, though it seemed that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so bad.

Harry took the hand. "I'm Harry Potter."

Draco froze mid hand shake, his eyes widening once more before releasing his grip. "So it's true then, what they've been saying? Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

Harry nodded.

"I heard you had to go live with _Muggles_ ," Draco continued, screwing up his face. "Father says they're horrible. Not a single bit of magic in them."

"They're not all horrible," Harry corrected quickly. "Though, my aunt and uncle and cousin are. Aren't there any Muggles in your family?"

Draco looked as though he'd been slapped in the face. "I'm a _Malfoy_." When Harry continued to stare at him blankly, he continued. "We're one of the oldest pure-blood wizarding families in existence. Not a single Squib in the family, and _certainly_ no Muggles."

"Lucky," Harry said, not sure what a Squib was. "I wish I had a whole family of wizards."

Draco leaned forward slightly as though he were about to share a big secret. "You'll soon realise that some wizarding families are better than others – I can help you there."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm a pure-blood, and so's the rest of my family," Draco said matter-of-factly. "Father says being pure-blood these days is a rare thing and that it makes us special. You don't want to go mixing with those Muggle-born types."

Harry was beginning to wonder if shaking the boy's hand had been the right choice at all. "Hagrid told me my dad came from a long line of wizards, though I know my mum had Muggle parents if that's what you mean."

" _Did_ she?" Draco said, as though the mere thought were ridiculous. "That's unfortunate."

"I think she was brilliant," Harry said defensively. He was regretting his decision more and more by the second.

"Sorry," Draco said, sounding a little more genuine than he had in Madam Malkin's. "In any case, that makes you a half-blood. I suppose that isn't so bad."

Suddenly, the door to their compartment opened once again, and this time the youngest of the red-haired brothers stuck his head inside.

"Do you mind?" he said. "Everywhere else is full."

"Not at all," Harry smiled, relieved to see both a familiar face and an excuse to stop talking to Draco about the apparent importance of bloodlines. As the red-haired boy sat in the seat beside him however, he failed to notice the way Draco's lips had suddenly thinned.

"I would've been here sooner, but some kid called Neville lost his toad and this other girl basically forced me to help look for it," he said, rolling his eyes. "You wouldn't _believe_ how bossy she was." He paused. "I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley."

From his seat, Draco let out a barely audible scoff.

"I'm Harry," he said, glancing across at the blond. "And this is Draco."

Ron seemed to notice the way the third boy looked at him, because he suddenly became very tense. "Hello," he said quietly.

By this point, the train had carried them out of London. Outside the window, the houses had turned into massive green fields which seemed to stretch out over the horizon. All three boys were quiet for some time, watching as the train sped past hundreds of cows and sheep.

"So you're really Harry Potter?" Ron suddenly blurted, breaking the silence.

Harry nodded.

"Oh. Well, I thought it might have been another one of Fred and George's jokes," he said. "And do you really have the …?" He pointed at Harry's forehead. This seemed to catch Draco's attention too, because he finally turned away from the window and looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry nodded, pulling back his fringe to reveal the lightning shaped scar.

Ron stared.

" _Cool!_ " said Draco.

"And that's where You-Know-Who …?" Ron trailed off.

Harry nodded again. "But I don't remember anything."

"Nothing at all?" Draco asked eagerly, his disapproval following Ron's entrance apparently forgotten.

"Nothing," said Harry. "Well – I remember a lot of green light, but that's it."

" _Wow_ ," Ron and Draco said together. They looked at each other. Ron smiled.

Harry turned to Ron. "Draco was telling me about his family earlier, are all your family wizards too?"

"Yes, well …" Ron paused. "I think mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

Draco seemed to approve of this.

"So you both must know loads of magic already," Harry said, having as much interest in them as they seemed to have in him.

"Well, not spells and stuff," Ron said. "That's what we're going to Hogwarts for."

"But we _have_ grown up around magic," Draco quickly added. "Didn't the Muggles tell you anything?"

And Harry was off, explaining all about his life with the Dursleys and the cupboard under the stairs. He told them all about having to wear Dudley's clothes and never getting proper birthday presents (this seemed to make Ron feel better) and how he constantly felt like he was alone (Draco said he knew the feeling).

"…and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or my parents or Voldemort –"

Both boys gasped.

"What?"

" _You said You-Know-Who's name!_ " Ron said, sounding both shocked and impressed. Given the look on Draco's face, he seemed to agree.

"I didn't mean to," Harry sighed. "This is what I mean, I just never knew you shouldn't. I've got loads to learn. Just because your parents have magical blood in them doesn't mean you'll know more than others whose parents are Muggles. I don't think it makes them any better either," he looked pointedly at Draco, who to his surprise, didn't argue with him. "Though … I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be," Ron said quickly. "There's loads of people who come from Muggle families like you said, and they all learn quick enough."

At around half past twelve, there was a commotion outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back the door to their compartment.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked.

Harry, who hadn't had anything for breakfast, jumped to his feet, as did Draco who it seemed was hungry himself. Ron however stayed seated, his ears going pink. He muttered something about having brought sandwiches, and Draco and Harry glanced at each other before heading out into the corridor.

For the first time in his life Harry's pockets were full of gold and silver, and he was ready to buy as many sweets as he could. What he found on the trolley however were dozens of different lollies he'd never seen before in his life. He spotted what he thought were the Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans that Draco had been talking about earlier that morning, and not wanting to miss out on anything, bought some of everything.

By the time Harry walked back into the compartment, Draco was unwrapping the packaging of a sweet he didn't recognise. He dumped his purchases on the seat between himself and Ron, the latter of whom stared at him in disbelief.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," Harry said. As if on cue, his stomach grumbled. He took a large bite out of a Pumpkin Pasty before noticing Ron had pulled a lumpy package out of his pockets. He un-wrapped it and sighed.

"She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Here, have a Pasty," Harry said, holding one out for him.

"You sure?" Ron asked. "I mean, I'd swap you for one of these," he glanced at his sandwiches, "but you wouldn't want them. They're dry."

Harry smiled. "Go on."

It wasn't long before the sandwiches lay forgotten, and all three boys shifted from the compartment seats to the floor space in between. They formed a circle around the sweets which they had placed in a pile, Draco even adding his own purchases to the stash. He'd never really had anyone he'd needed to share with before, so he was surprised at how nice it felt, just sitting there with the other two boys eating their way through Cauldron Cakes and Liquorice Wands and all sorts of other things.

"What are these?" Harry asked suddenly, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "Wait, they aren't real are they?"

"No, but forget about that, it's the card you want," Draco said, eyeing the other Chocolate Frog packets in the pile.

Harry gave the blond a quizzical look. "What?"

"Oh right, you don't know," Ron said. "Each pack comes with a card to collect of a famous Witch or Wizard. I've got about five hundred myself – still missing Agrippa and Ptolemy, though."

Harry un-wrapped the Chocolate Frog and slipped the card out. On it, an old man with a long silver beard, equally long hair and half-moon spectacles stared back at him. Underneath was the name _Albus Dumbledore_.

"So _this_ is Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed.

Ron's eyes widened. "Don't tell me you've never heard of him!"

"Father says Dumbledore is the worst thing that's ever happened to Hogwarts," Draco said.

"Your father seems to say a lot of things," Harry muttered. Draco didn't reply.

Ron rolled his eyes and turned back to Harry. "Some say Dumbledore is the only one You-Know-Who is afraid of because he's the only one more powerful than him. From what Fred and George have told me, I think he's bloody brilliant."

As the three boys moved on from the Chocolate Frogs to the Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans ("It was a cement flavoured one, I _swear!_ "), the view outside the window turned from the countryside into wild woods, twisting rivers and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment once again, and this time two new faces, a boy and a girl about their age, stood on the threshold. Harry recognised the boy as the one he had seen on platform nine and three-quarters, though Ron seemed to recognise the girl as well given the way he cringed.

" _There_ you are, I was wondering where you'd run off to," the girl said, looking at Ron expectantly. He was about to mutter an apology when she spoke up again. "Have any of you seen a toad? Neville here has lost one." She inclined her head towards the boy beside her who looked like he'd been crying.

"Sorry."

"Nope."

"Why in Merlin's name would you buy a _toad?_ "

Instead of receiving an answer, Draco's comment only caused Neville to begin crying again.

" _Now_ look what you've done," the girl said, glowering at Draco. "Come on Neville, we'll ask in the next compartment."

With a final huff at the three boys, the door was shut and Neville and the girl were gone.

"That's the girl I was talking about earlier," Ron groaned. "I don't know why he's so upset anyway. If it were me I'd have lost the toad as soon as I could. Then again, I brought Scabbers so I can't really talk."

"Scabbers?" Draco asked, arching an eyebrow.

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat, grey rat which was asleep. "He's useless and he hardly ever wakes up. My brother Percy was made Prefect this year so mum and dad got him a new owl and I got Scabbers instead. Pathetic, isn't he?"

"Just a little," said Harry.

"Very," said Draco.

Ron huffed. Before he could say anything more however, the door to their compartment was slid open once more and this time the girl had returned without the toad-less boy.

"We already told you we haven't seen his toad," Ron said, almost sounding annoyed.

"I'm not here for that," the girl said indignantly. "I came back to ask why on earth you three are sitting on the _floor_. And look at this mess, there's wrappers everywhere! Someone's going to think you've been in a fight, you'll get into trouble before we even get there."

Harry, Ron and Draco stared at her in disbelief, though she didn't seem to notice.

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. I already know you," she said, glancing at Ron before looking back up at the other two boys. "And you are?"

"Harry Potter," said Harry, if anything to stop the girl from talking for a few seconds. This seemed to have the opposite effect, however.

"Are you _really?_ " she said. "I've read all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_." She glanced at Draco. "And you are?"

"Draco Malfoy," he said proudly. It was clear she wasn't aware of his family's apparent importance however given the bored look she seemed to give him.

"Pleasure," she deadpanned. She glanced at the other two once more. "Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and Gryffindor sounds by far the best," – she didn't hear Draco gag –, "though I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad … anyway, I should be looking for Neville's toad. You best be clearing up this mess and changing into your robes, I expect we'll be arriving soon."

And just like that, she was gone, leaving the three boys in stunned silence.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope _she's_ not in it," Ron muttered. "Though, all my brothers have been in Gryffindor. If I'm not in it I don't know what my parents will say."

"I'd thank Merlin," Draco scoffed. "If I got put in Gryffindor I think I'd leave, wouldn't you? Though, I know I'll be in Slytherin of course, my whole family is."

Ron's eyes went wide. "And you're _okay_ with that? Everyone knows every witch or wizard who went bad came from that house."

Harry was reminded of what Hagrid had told him about Voldemort during their visit to Diagon Alley.

"Everyone says that," Draco scowled, "but it's not just about all the dark stuff. Slytherins are cunning and resourceful and determined and are pretty much expected to do great things. Besides," he looked smug, "Merlin was a Slytherin."

"Still," Ron mumbled. "Anyway, did you guys hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_. Someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Draco gasped.

"What happened to them?" Harry asked.

"They haven't been caught, that's why the news is so big," Ron said. "My dad thinks it must've been a pretty powerful Dark Wizard if they managed to get in and out of Gringotts like that, but the weird thing is that nothing was taken."

Outside, the sun had begun to set over the horizon. The sky's pinkish hue quickly turned into a dark blue, and before the three knew it, a voice was echoing throughout the train: " _We_ _'ll be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately_."

"Oh bloody hell, we haven't changed yet," Ron cursed, glancing at Harry. "We should make it quick. Bet you anything that Hermione girl will come back down here just to find a reason to tell us off."

Once they'd thrown on their robes, the three of them began cramming their pockets with the leftover sweets before joining their fellow students out in the crowded hallway. Harry felt sick with nerves, and he noted Ron was looking pale under his freckles too. Even Draco was looking paler than usual, if that were even possible. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted however by a loud shout down the corridor.

"Oi, Malfoy!"

The three boys turned in the direction of the voice to see both Vincent and Greg making their way through the sea of students towards the blond boy.

"We've been lookin' all over for you," Vincent said.

"Yeah," Greg nodded. "You missed out on all the fun. Blaise had this idea to buy like 20 Chocolate Frogs –"

"–and open them all at once –"

"–and they went _everywhere_ ," Greg grinned.

Harry had to admit, the taller boy didn't look so frightening now that he didn't have a scowl on his face. Not to mention unleashing twenty Chocolate Frogs within the confines of a train compartment actually sounded quite funny. Before Draco could respond, the crowd began to move all at once towards the carriage doors.

"Come on," Vincent said to Draco, backing towards the door with the rest of the students. "Theo's been havin' a fit wondering where you were, kept calling you a little git because he wanted to show you his wand or something."

"Ha, _wand_ ," Greg smirked.

Vincent rolled his eyes as he turned and pushed the taller boy forward. "Oh sod off, mate."

Draco let out a quiet bark of laughter at the boys' antics as they disembarked the train. He shivered as he was enveloped in the cold night air, and he turned to wait for Harry and Ron to follow suit.

"Looks like some old friends feel neglected," Draco said as they stepped off the train, inclining his head towards a group of about half a dozen boys and girls a little ways down the platform. "I hope I see you both later, though. Nice meeting you, Potter." He glanced at Ron and smiled. "And you're not so bad yourself, even if you are a Weasley."

Despite the boy's seemingly blunt nature, Ron found himself giving a half smile back as Draco turned and made his way towards the group.

"I've heard of his family," Ron told Harry once the blond was out of earshot. "They were one of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched, though dad thinks that's a bunch of bogeys. He said Draco's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

"Well, Draco seems alright at least," said Harry. "I mean, I did think he was a bit of a bully at first, though I guess he's not so bad. I think a lot of his ideas about pure-bloods and Muggles come from his dad."

"Yeah," Ron agreed.

Suddenly, a large lamp appeared to bob over their heads and a booming voice Harry recognised carried over the crowd of students.

"Firs'-years, firs'-years, over here!" Hagrid bellowed. "C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"

Harry and Ron stuck to each other as they and their fellow first-years were led down a dark, narrow path. No one seemed to speak much, except for Neville who sniffed once or twice. Harry guessed he hadn't found his toad. They rounded a bend, and suddenly there was a collective gasp as the students found themselves at the edge of a large, black lake. Sitting atop a high mountain on the other side was a grand castle which stretched high into the sky, the light from its windows twinkling as though they were the stars themselves. A fleet of small boats sat at the edge of the lake.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called out.

Harry and Ron clambered into a boat and were promptly followed in by Neville and Hermione. Harry glanced around looking for Draco, but couldn't see much beyond a few feet in front of him in the dark.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid shouted. "Right then – FORWARD!"

The boats set off across the lake. Fellow students oooh'd and aaah'd at the castle, its many turrets becoming clearer the closer they got. Soon enough the boats had carried them inside the cliff face and docked themselves at a mini harbour. The students clambered out onto a surface of rocks and pebbles.

After finding Neville's toad sitting in the boat he'd just been in with Harry, Ron and Hermione ("Trevor!"), Hagrid led the students up a passageway inside the cliff. They followed his lamp until they finally came out onto smooth, damp grass right in front of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps, coming to a stop just outside a pair of large, oak doors.

Once Hagrid was sure Neville still had his toad, he raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

* * *

 _Alternate chapter title: Or the one where Draco isn't so bad after all._

 _..._

 _A/N: So I actually got the idea for this story about two years ago and have slowly been writing it since. I've effectively planned out all 7 books and am about half way through writing the first, but wanted to get an idea of whether or not this is something people would actually be interested in because I'm really enjoying writing this. While first year will stick moderately close to canon, even the smallest of changes will affect the books that come after to the point where at least one has a completely different plot to canon._

 _I know this sort of thing has been done before, but I've put a lot of planning into this and have tried my best to stay true to each character. So even though the idea may stem from the 'fix-it' trope, I'm really hoping I can create something unique with this series._

 _Thank you for reading!_


	2. The Sorting

_A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews/follows/favourites! Wasn't expecting a response like that at all, but I'm so glad you guys enjoyed the first chapter. Here, have a cookie. And chapter two. And see the end of chapter notes for a thing._

* * *

Harry swallowed and glanced around nervously.

In the span of five minutes the first-years had been greeted by a stern-looking witch (Professor McGonagall, Hagrid had called her), led into a small empty chamber off the hall at the front entrance to the castle, informed of the four Hogwarts houses, then left alone. It didn't help that the chamber they were in was lit by medieval-style torches, giving the room an eerie feel.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron suddenly.

"Some sort of test I think," Ron said, sounding just as nervous as Harry. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Harry's heart began to beat faster as all sorts of horrible thoughts filled his mind. A test? In front of the whole school? Up until a month beforehand he had no idea magic even existed – how on earth was he supposed to pass? It didn't help that he could hear Hermione Granger rapidly whispering to another girl about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which ones she'd need.

Suddenly, he heard his name being called, and he turned to see Draco beckoning both him and Ron towards the opposite corner of the room. He could see that the blond's friends were all staring at them expectantly, so with a light nudge to Ron, the two boys hesitantly made their way towards the group.

"Corrupting other kids already, Draco?" he heard a girl with short, dark hair half whisper as they joined them. The blond rolled his eyes. "Go on then, introduce us."

"Git," Draco shot back playfully at the girl before turning towards his new friends. "This is Ron Weasley." He inclined his head towards the red head, noticing many of his friends reacting much the same way as he had earlier in the day.

"Weasley?" a boy with dark skin repeated, his eyes narrowing.

Ron looked at the ground as Draco shot a glare at the boy. "Leave off, he's alright."

"A'ight," the boy said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Draco turned back to Ron. "Don't mind Blaise, he was dropped as a child."

"Repeatedly," another boy with jet black hair added, which got an involuntary half-hearted huff of laughter out of Ron. Blaise elbowed him in the side but he didn't seem phased. "I'm Theodore Nott, but most people just call me Theo. I don't care much for the blood stuff but this lot puts up with me anyway." This earned an eye roll from a few of his friends as he held out a hand for Ron to shake. He took it hesitantly.

"If Draco says you're alright then I'll bite," the girl with dark hair added. "You're still one of us, Sacred Twenty-Eight and all. I'm Pansy Parkinson, by the way."

"Hi," Ron said shyly.

Sensing the tension, Theo cleared his throat and turned his attention towards Harry. "And who's this then, Malfoy?"

"Ah, _this_ ," Draco grinned, pausing for dramatic effect, "is Harry Potter."

Instead of the thin-lipped recognition Ron had received, the reveal of Harry's identity caused many in the group to collectively gasp in surprise. Harry was suddenly very grateful that the chamber was so dimly lit or else his flushed cheeks would be obvious for the entire group to see.

" _The_ Harry Potter?" another girl with tan coloured hair gawped. "I'd heard rumours but I didn't think they were true."

Despite being unnerved by the attention, Harry seemed to find his voice. "It's funny, you all seem to know more about me than I do."

"Is it true you had to be raised by muggles?" the girl asked. Harry nodded.

"Oh you _poor_ thing!" Pansy gushed. "I can't imagine anything so horrible! What was it like?"

Before Harry had a chance to repeat his story from the train however, he was suddenly interrupted by the screams of several other students. The group turned and Pansy screamed herself as they saw twenty or so ghosts stream into the room through the walls, seemingly oblivious of the frightened students as they carried on with their own conversations.

"Forgive and forget, I say," said one which seemed to look like a fat little monk. "We ought to give him a second chance."

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not even a real ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had finally noticed the first-years.

No one answered.

"New students!" the Fat Friar said happily. "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

A few students managed a nod.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" the Friar continued. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The sorting ceremony is about to start." The first-years breathed a collective sigh of relief as Professor McGonagall reappeared in the doorway to the chamber, and the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall they had entered through. "Now, form a line and follow me."

The nervous chatter quickly began once more as the students did as they were told. Harry heard Pansy whispering animatedly behind him as he stepped into line behind Ron, and before he knew it, the group of first-years had been led out of the chamber, across the hall and through a set of gigantic double doors into the Great Hall.

The room was unlike anything Harry had ever seen. Thousands of floating candles lit the room giving it a warm glow. Many hovered above four room length tables, all of which already accommodated the older students in accordance with their houses. They stared at the first-years with something akin to amusement at their nervousness as they were led to the front of the room.

Once they were huddled up, Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of them, and on top of it, an old, weathered wizard's hat. For a moment, nothing happened. Then suddenly, a rip near the brim opened like a mouth and the hat began to sing.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron told Harry as it finished its song and the rest of the students applauded. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

"What was that about wrestling a troll?" Theo asked, sticking his head over Ron's shoulder. The red head didn't get a chance to reply before the room descended into silence once more.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Professor McGonagall said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

And so, one by one, each student was called forward. Each time the Hat sorted a student, cheers would erupt from that house's table as the nervous first-year warily made their way towards them. As the sorting continued, Harry noticed that so far, every student from Draco's group of friends had been sorted into Slytherin. 'Bullstrode, Millicent', a rather stocky girl for her age who had so far kept quiet in their few interactions was the first of them to be sorted. She was followed shortly after by Vincent, and another girl, 'Davis, Tracey'. It appeared that, as he suspected, the girl was unknown to the group as Harry turned his head to see Draco and the rest of his friends glancing at one another with looks of curiosity.

When 'Granger, Hermione', was called up, she practically ran to the stool and jammed the hat on her head eagerly.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat declared after a few minutes. Ron groaned.

Draco smirked as he tapped the red head on the shoulder. "You sure you still want to be in Gryffindor?" he whispered slyly. "There's always the snakes if being stupidly brave doesn't work out."

"No thanks," Ron mumbled.

'Greengrass, Daphne', the girl with tan coloured hair who had been animatedly asking Harry questions before the sorting was the next to be sorted into Slytherin. She was quickly followed by Greg, who it appeared was very happy to be joining Vincent. The two high-fived each other as he took his spot at the Slytherin table.

When Draco was called up, the Sorting Hat had barely touched his head before it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!". He smirked, giving a half-hearted two fingered salute to Harry, Ron and his remaining group of friends before swaggering towards the Slytherin table. Theo was quick to join him, as was Pansy who practically ran towards the table and suffocated Daphne with a hug.

A pair of twins and another girl, 'Perks, Sally-Anne' were sorted, then at last—

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the Hall.

" _Potter_ , did she say?"

" _The_ Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the Hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. The next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," said a small voice in his ear. "Very difficult. I sense confusion in you. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting ... so where shall I put you?"

"I ... I'm not sure," Harry thought. His mind took him back to Hagrid's words the day he'd found out he was a wizard. 'There's not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin', he'd said. And yet ... Draco had been _nice_. Blunt, but nice enough. And the blond's friends, a little prejudiced maybe. He hadn't really had a chance to speak with them but he'd seen the way they'd interacted with each other. They were just like him. They had different opinions on blood perhaps, but they weren't bad _people_. Maybe Hagrid was wrong - maybe Slytherin wasn't as horrible as he'd made it sound. And yet - he wasn't cunning at all. Then again, he was neither brave, nor particularly smart, as the hat had said. Finally, he thought again, "What do you think?"

The Sorting Hat remained silent for a moment. It wasn't often it got asked for its opinion. Most kids were either too scared to argue with its train of thought or had enough gumption to tell it which house they wanted to be in outright.

"I believe," it said finally, "that your mind belongs in one place, but your heart in another. And I've always thought the heart above the mind. So if you're not sure, better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole Hall. His hands shook as he removed it and made his way towards the Gryffindor table to the sound of the loudest cheers yet.

From the Slytherin table, Draco watched as Harry was dragged into a handshake by an older boy with red hair while two other red-haired twins kept chanting, 'We got Potter! We got Potter!'. He'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't disappointed Harry didn't end up with the Slytherins, though it was hardly a surprise. He'd heard the boy's parents had both been Gryffindors themselves.

"Rotten luck, that," Theo said, echoing Draco's thoughts. "Maybe we'll get Weasley."

Draco looked over at the Gryffindor table again, realising just how many red heads there were. "I doubt it."

"Mmm," was all Pansy said.

And now, there were only five students left to be sorted. The first, 'Smith, Sally', was sorted into Slytherin. Just like Tracey, she was another unknown face and Pansy slid across the bench to make room for her.

"Thanks," the girl said quietly.

'Thomas, Dean' became the next Gryffindor, and 'Turpin, Lisa', a Ravenclaw. Then it was Ron's turn. The red head's face was an almost pale green by now as he took his seat on the stool and placed the hat on his head. Over at the Gryffindor table, Harry had his fingers crossed. A second later, the hat shouted, 'GRYFFINDOR!'.

Harry clapped loudly with the rest of his house, grinning ear-to-ear as Ron collapsed into the seat beside him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," Percy said rather pompously.

Lastly, Blaise was called up. The Sorting Hat seemed to take a while with him and for a minute, Draco thought Blaise might end up elsewhere. Then finally, the hat shouted, 'SLYTHERIN!' and Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

"Bloody hat," Blaise cursed as he scooted in beside Theo. "Kept insisting on putting me in Ravenclaw."

"Seriously?" Millie asked, speaking up for the first time that night.

Blaise shrugged. "No idea. But I told it that if it didn't put me in Slytherin I'd have Draco's father put forward a motion on the board to replace it with a newer, cleaner Sorting Hat so it finally shut up."

Draco couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter. "Blaise you git."

"It was either me or it," he replied nonchalantly. "And no way was I going to spend the next seven years holed up with a bunch of swots."

The group was interrupted by Albus Dumbledore standing at the High Table tapping a spoon against his goblet. The Headmaster was absolutely beaming at the students, clearly happy to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

As the Headmaster sat down the students began to clap and cheer, and suddenly, the previously empty plates in front of them were filled with all sorts of food. Roast pork, roast beef, sausages, bacon, potatoes, pudding, gravy, ketchup, and for some reason, mint humbugs. Over at the Gryffindor table, Harry stared at the food in disbelief.

"Well go on then, eat up Harry," Ron said, inclining his head towards the food. Not used to having so much to choose from, Harry took a little bit of everything.

With the food brought easier conversation, and the newly sorted first-year Gryffindors began to slowly mingle with each other. The house ghost Nearly Headless Nick had wondered around amongst them, giving them a rather visual demonstration of why he _didn't_ want to be called that before floating away to talk to some of the older students.

Harry had glanced over at the Slytherin table during all this to find a rather horrible looking ghost, the Bloody Baron, sitting right beside Draco who looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else but there. Harry couldn't help but laugh, only for Draco to catch his gaze and poke his tongue out in return which only made Harry laugh even harder.

Before long, the meat and potatoes were replaced with a variety of desserts and the conversation turned to their families.

"I'm half and half," a boy called Seamus said. "Me dad's a muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

Neville told them that he had been raised by his grandmother and extended family, all of whom thought that he was going to be a Squib (which as Harry learned, was a Muggle born into a magical family). "...and you should've seen their faces when I got in here," Neville continued. "They thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great-uncle Algie was so please he bought me my toad."

On the subject of families, Harry was reminded of something that had been said earlier. "Hey," he nudged Ron. "What was that girl – Pansy I think her name was – talking about before, something about the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight'?"

"Oh," Ron said, swallowing a rather large bit of cheesecake. "Some old coot ages ago wrote this thing listing twenty-eight wizarding families who he thought were still completely 'pure-blooded'. My family is one of them." Harry looked impressed. "But it's nothing, seriously," Ron quickly added. "Just something those elitist families use to make themselves think they're better than everyone else. I think that's how Malfoy and his friends already knew each other. He's definitely on the list, and the name Parkinson sounds familiar too. Those lot tend to mix with each other."

"But if you're on that list then how come you're not friends with them?" Harry asked.

"Because," Ron said, his mouth full of food yet again, "we're blood traitors."

Harry frowned. "What?"

"Pure-bloods who sympathise with Muggles and Muggle-borns," Ron explained. "My dad works in the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. He loves Muggles, thinks them and their inventions are brilliant. He spends most of his spare time tinkering with the stuff he's picked up in raids to see what they do."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Ron's dad trying to work his way around a toaster.

"Anyway," Ron continued, "I've been brought up different than they have. Not to mention my family lives off sickles compared to most of theirs. That's why I was so surprised Draco stood up for me earlier."

Harry shrugged. "Like I said, maybe he's not so bad. Whatever the reason I'm glad he did."

"Yeah," Ron said, before taking a large bite out of a custard tart.

Over at the Slytherin table, Daphne was talking animatedly about a new pair of shoes her mother had bought for her over the weekend as a going away gift – much to Millie's chagrin – when Pansy noticed Sally pushing her food around her plate half-heartedly.

"Hey," Pansy said, nudging the girl slightly. "You okay?"

Sally looked up from her dessert to find that even Daphne had stopped talking long enough to listen to her answer. "I'm a half-blood," she mumbled dejectedly.

"So am I," Millie said, her mouth full.

Tracey perked up next to her. "Really? I was so scared, I thought I was the only one."

"Blaise here is one too," Millie continued, having swallowed a helping of chocolate mousse. "But he'll never admit it."

"Shut up," he pouted. When Millie fixed him with a glare, he straightened up. "Sorry."

"You're one of us now," Pansy said, ignoring Blaise. "Slytherins stick together above all else."

Sally seemed visibly relieved.

"Go on then," Theo said. "Tell us about your family."

And so she did. Her dad was a Muggle-born, her mum a pure-blood. Both had been in Ravenclaw as school kids and had expected herself to be placed the same, hence why she was so surprised to have been put in Slytherin. "I'm not sure what they'll say when I write them," she admitted. "If I may be frank, Slytherin doesn't exactly have the best reputation."

Greg scowled. "People say all sorts of stuff about our house, but hardly any of it's true."

"After You-Know-Who, people will believe anything," Vincent added. "But we look after our own."

"What about you, Tracey?" Theo asked quickly before the other Snakes had a chance to get in on the subject of politics.

"My parents are both half-bloods," she said. Mum was a Hufflepuff and my dad a Gryffindor, though I honestly had no idea where I'd end up. I've never been particularly hard working or brave. Though I suppose I've got a bit of a knack for getting away with things," she laughed.

Theo grinned. "Then you've come to the right place."

Before long, the dessert too disappeared and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The crowd of students instantly fell silent.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you." Dumbledore went on to explain that the forest on the grounds was forbidden to all students (he'd looked pointedly at the Weasley twins), that there was to be no magic in the corridors between classes and that quidditch trials were to be held during the second week of term. "And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Tracey laughed but was one of the very few who did.

"He's not serious, surely?" she asked, glancing at the others.

"Who knows," Draco muttered.

Dumbledore coughed to stop the hushed whispers which had popped up in various sections of the Hall. "And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" With a flick of his wand, words appeared high above the table for all to see. "Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!"

To say the song was a cacophony was an understatement. All over the Hall students sang at different speeds and to different tunes until finally, the Weasley twins were left singing to a slow funeral march. Draco really wished they'd hurry up.

"Ah, music," Dumbledore said, wiping his eyes as they finished. "A magic beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Slytherin first-years followed a fifth-year prefect with crooked teeth through the chattering crowds and out of the Great Hall. As they began descending a set of marble stairs leading down to the dungeons, Draco noticed Harry and Ron making their way up a moving staircase opposite. He sent a wave their way, but it appeared they were too tired to notice.

"Rejected, aye?" Theo said sheepishly.

Draco scowled. "Oh sod off."

Before long, the Slytherin students had passed through several corridors, the tired first-years yawning and dragging their feet as they were led down even more flights of stairs. At last, they reached the dungeon corridor, were led down a final set of stairs and came to a halt at what appeared to be a dead end in the form of a stone wall.

" _Obumbratio_ ," the fifth-year boy said. The word appeared like gold sparks in front of them before fading into the wall. A moment later, the wall slid across revealing the entrance to the common room. "Welcome to the Slytherin dungeons," the boy grinned.

Despite how tired they were, the first-years couldn't help but gawp at the room. It was _beautiful_. The walls were covered with ornate art and tapestries, depicting the adventures of famous Slytherins who had come before them. The entire room was dimly lit, brightened only by green lamps and the dark greenish hue of the lake surrounding the castle even at that late hour. High backed wooden chairs and plush emerald green sofas sat before an intricately carved fireplace which sat at the center of the far wall and gave the room a cozy feel.

"I know you're all very tired, but if you'll gather around for just a minute," the fifth-year boy said suddenly, diverting their attention from the room's décor. "My name is Marcus Flint, Prefect and captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team." The mention of the sport seemed to wake Draco up momentarily. "The most important thing you need to know is this – while you're at Hogwarts, those of us in this house will be like your family."

Pansy glanced over at Sally then, who seemed to have relaxed somewhat since dinner.

"Due to err, events of the past," Marcus continued, averting his gaze for a moment, "Slytherin doesn't have the best reputation at Hogwarts. You may find yourselves scrutinized and targeted by other students because of this, and so I recommend you stick together. Support each other, study hard and do Slytherin proud. Gemma Farley, your sixth-year Prefect will go into more detail tomorrow. But for now –" Marcus smirked as Vincent let out a loud yawn, "– I think we should all head to bed."

The fifth-year boy directed them towards a hallway on the left, the boys' dorms being to the left and the girls to the right. Too tired to do much else, the boys bid the five girls goodnight before making their way into their room and finding their beds at last; five four-poster beds almost as intricately carved as the fireplace hung with emerald green velvet curtains. In front of each bed lay their trunks which had been brought down from the train.

"Oh Merlin," Greg said, mesmerised.

The boys were too tired to take in much else, so they threw on their pyjamas and were asleep almost at once.

Whether it was the food he had eaten or not, Draco wasn't sure, but he found himself dreaming of the train ride to Hogwarts. But this time, it was different. He was in the train compartment with Harry and Ron only Vincent and Greg were with him too. "But we don't feel like leaving, do we boys?" he heard himself say cruelly. "We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." Vincent and Greg made to grab for the sweets when they were suddenly attacked by Scabbers – the boys screamed as they ran from the train compartment and Draco woke, frowning.

He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke the next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.

* * *

 _Alternate chapter title: Or the one where the Slytherins aren't just one dimensional evil baddies._

…

 _A/N: Hello again! Fancy meeting you here. Anywho, this is a bit of a mini PSA that I'm looking for a beta/someone I can run through ideas with for future chapters of this story (and future books) for those of you who aren't too fussed about spoilers. If you're interested, please PM me and I'll get back to you. Thank you in advance!_

 _Oh, and just a random bit of trivia. For anyone wondering, 'Sally Smith' was a name I got from JK's list of students in Harry's year that she published in a Christmas Special way back when, and I just popped her in there to even out the Slytherin side of things._


	3. The Potions Class

_A/N: Thank you so much for your continued support! Reviews/follows/favourites make me feel all warm and fuzzy. Also a special thank you_ _to 'pseudonymousgeek' for kindly offering to beta this story._

* * *

Draco suppressed a yawn as he and his friends filed out of greenhouse one on Thursday afternoon. It was only three o'clock, yet the blond was ready to fall asleep on the first available surface he came across.

The first week at Hogwarts had been a mix of attending lessons on subjects Draco had dreamed of studying for years and getting lost on the way to those classes. Despite having been brought up in the wizarding world, none of the descriptions he'd heard of Hogwarts had even come close to revealing just how grand the castle truly was. On top of the constantly moving staircases were corridors that disappeared at random, others that only appeared on certain days and doors that only unlocked if you said 'please'. It didn't help that the pictures in the hallways were constantly moving about, making them terrible landmarks.

"What have we got tomorrow?" Theo asked no one in particular.

"Who _cares_ ," Pansy sighed dramatically. "This week has been ridiculous. If I get one more assignment on the first day of a class I'm going to scream."

Millie rolled her eyes, ignoring the girl. "Double Potions with the Gryffindors."

Draco perked up at that. "Tomorrow morning?"

"Mhm."

His weariness forgotten, Draco was suddenly very excited. So far that week, all of their classes had been with either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, and he'd hardly had a chance to talk to Harry or Ron since the ride to Hogwarts besides the odd 'hello' as they passed each other in the corridors.

"I can't wait," Blaise said, giddy. "I've heard Snape hates the other houses. Apparently he docked five points off Longbottom the other day for tripping over in the corridors."

Tracey blinked. "You're joking."

"Nope," Blaise smirked. He had a bounce in his step as they reentered the castle. "It's like he has this vendetta against Gryffindor or something. Not that I care, it'll be good to see him take those bloody lions down a peg or two. Far more interesting than Binns' class."

"Don't you _dare_ mention that man's name," Daphne scowled. As a history buff, the girl had been highly offended at how boring the ghost had managed to make their first lesson earlier that day.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Point is, Snape asks _questions_. Hard ones that he knows people can't answer. You watch as they panic and the hope slowly fades from their eyes, it's beautiful."

The young Slytherins continued walking in relative silence and before long, they found themselves back in their common room. Slowly but surely they were starting to get the hang of the castle's twists and turns, so much so that on that particular trip, they only found themselves lost once.

* * *

Harry grumbled to himself as he trudged down to the library from Gryffindor Tower that afternoon, Charms textbook, quill, ink pot and parchment in hand. He'd been in the middle of writing an essay when Fred and George had begun a rather loud game of exploding snap in the common room. While he was beginning to find he enjoyed watching the twins' antics, it was clear he wasn't going to get any work done with them flailing about so he had promptly picked up his things and left the room. He had only been sitting at a desk towards the back of the library for about five minutes when a book landed beside him with a loud _smack_. He looked up to see Draco leaning against the desk looking down at him with a smirk on his face.

"Draco!" Harry beamed. He was promptly shushed by the librarian, Madam Pince.

The blond boy rolled his eyes in the direction of the older witch and turned back to face Harry. "Good to see you, I was worried you'd be in your common room. What you got there?"

"Just a Charms essay," Harry groaned. "Professor Flitwick wants twelve inches of parchment by Monday."

"Forget that," Draco said. He slid the book across the desk so that it was sitting in front of his friend, pushing the Charms essay out of the way in the process.

Harry stared at it. "Yes, this is our Potions textbook. Need me to read it for you, do you?"

"Very funny," Draco huffed. "We have class first thing tomorrow."

"Yes, and?"

"I've been reliably informed that Snape likes to pick on your lot," Draco drawled. "And believe me, while I'd love to see Gryffindor lose twenty points within the span of two hours, I don't want to see you put on the spot in front of the entire class. Nor get on Snape's bad side."

Harry let out a huff of laughter. "I think it's a bit late for that. He was staring daggers at me during the Welcome Feast."

"Maybe he was just squinting to get a look at your scar."

Harry couldn't stop the bark of laughter that escaped him, earning him yet another ' _shhh_ ' from Madam Pince. "Why not, everyone else seems to be staring at it. But really," he slid the Potions book back towards Draco. "Thanks, but I want to get this essay done before the weekend."

"Where would you find a bezoar?" Draco asked suddenly.

Harry glanced up at him. "A what?"

" _Exactly_ ," the blond said, sliding the Potions textbook back towards him.

Harry sighed. "Well I suppose if he didn't seem too fond of me at the feast..."

"Look," Draco said. "I'll study _with_ you." He dragged a chair from an empty desk adjacent and sat down beside Harry. "Merlin knows I don't want to touch my Herbology essay until I have to and if I hear the name 'Emeric the Evil' one more time I think my ears are going to explode."

Harry pulled a face at the thought of Binns' class which got a grin out of the other boy. "You'd really do that for me?"

"Of course," Draco said. "You're my friend."

And so he did.

Potions took place the following morning down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there than in any other part of the castle and Harry shivered as he entered the room, though not just as a result of the temperature. Wall-length shelves were lined from floor to ceiling with jars of all different shapes and sizes and were filled with pickled animals. He was fairly certain he didn't want to know how the creatures had come to be there.

It appeared that the Slytherin boys were already seated and ready to go, though that was hardly a surprise since their common room was only a short walk away. Harry noticed that they were sliding across the bench to make room for both him and Ron in the front row and so the two Gryffindors promptly took the seats offered.

"Thanks," Harry smiled at Draco as he slid into the seat beside him. "Where are your other friends?"

Draco shrugged. "Merlin if I know. They said they needed to stop by the bathroom but that was fifteen minutes ago."

"Girls," muttered Ron.

"Tell me about it," Draco laughed.

It was at that moment that the boys heard shuffling just outside the classroom and they turned to see the girls in question entering the room.

"It's okay everyone, we're here!" Pansy announced. She strolled into the classroom confidently followed by Millie, Daphne, Tracey and Sally, the latter three of whom were giggling amongst themselves. She slid into the seat next to Ron effectively sandwiching the two Gryffindors amongst a sea of green. "Aww Draco, you babysitting these two?"

The blond scowled. "Shut _up_ , Pansy."

"Fine." She waved him off. "Since you're being a git, I'm sharing my textbook with Weasley here."

Ron, who appeared to be quite terrified of the girl, was about to tell her that wouldn't be necessary when the classroom door slammed shut behind them. The first-years collectively turned to see Professor Snape charging towards the front of the room, his black robes billowing behind him rather impressively. Once at the front, the Potions Master turned and folded his arms, staring down the students.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he said softly, scanning the back row. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death ..."

He paused, as his eyes fell over the front row, apparently noticing the seating arrangement for the first time. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. "...if you aren't as big a group of dunderheads as I usually have to teach. Potter." Harry's eyes widened as Snape's cold gaze locked onto his. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry struggled not to laugh as Hermione's hand shot into the air behind him. He could hardly believe his luck. The first question he'd been asked by Draco the previous day and now it was being used to test him. "The stomach of a goat, sir."

The cold gaze was suddenly gone as Snape's expression became unreadable. "And what does it _do_?"

"Saves you from most poisons," Harry recited. He waited for a moment with baited breath as the Potions Master continued to stare him down.

"Perhaps something a little more difficult," Snape muttered, his gaze hardening once more. "Potter, what would I get if I added two sprigs of wolfsbane to a mixture of snake fangs and billywig stings?"

Harry frowned, ignoring the airy sound of Hermione's now quivering hand behind him. _Billywig stings, that sounds familiar_ , he thought. _It sounded funny, I remember, so_ – "The Awakening potion!" he suddenly exclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly. "It's a counter to a powerful sleeping potion."

Snape regarded Harry for a few more moments. "You opened a textbook before class – perhaps there is hope for you after all," he drawled. He glanced at Draco then, who was doing his best to look indifferent. "Mr. Malfoy, what is that 'powerful sleeping potion' called?"

"Draught of the Living Death, sir," the blond said without missing a beat.

Snape gave a stiff nod of approval. "Good."

With Harry and Draco each succeeding, the class quickly descended into a rapid fire quiz on the components of the potion they would be making that lesson. Those who hadn't done any prior reading – most notably the Gryffindors – scrambled for their textbooks as Snape began singling people out.

"Miss Davis, how many snake fangs in the potion to cure boils?" he asked.

"Six, sir."

"Excellent, and how must they be prepared – Finnigan?"

"Freshly toasted, sir?"

Snape sighed. "Your humour knows no bounds. Miss Brown?"

"Ground with mortar and pestle."

"Very good. How many porcupine quills Mr. Zabini?"

"Two, sir."

"Excellent," Snape nodded. It was then that he noticed Hermione still quivering in her seat in the back row and he sighed once again. "Miss Granger, what is the proper name for Liquid Luck?

"Felix Felicis, sir!"

Snape shook his head in exasperation. "That is _NEWT_ level potions, child. Back to boils – Mr. Crabbe, how many horned slugs?"

"Five?"

"Wrong! Mr. Weasley?"

"Four?"

"Lucky guess. How many times must you stir your potion before its completion – Mr. Thomas?"

"Five times, sir."

"Correct," Snape said. "And _don't_ think I didn't see you reading out of your textbook just now."

Finally, the Potions Master deemed the class ready to begin brewing and he ordered that they put themselves into pairs. Draco immediately seized Harry's arm, dragging him towards the back of the room where the school's supply of ingredients were stored. Ron on the other hand heard his name being called and turned to see Theo giving him a lopsided grin.

"Wanna pair up?" the Slytherin boy asked, hauling his cauldron out from under the bench. "We can use my cauldron."

Ron beamed back. "Thanks. Mine's a bit of a joke to be honest."

As they worked, Snape made his way up and down the room keeping a close eye on each of the groups. He watched as they weighed dried nettles and crushed snake fangs, tut-tutting at Seamus who nearly overheated his and Dean's initial mixture. At one point, he paused at Ron and Theo's station as the two boys were waiting for their potion to brew for the allocated time. The Potions Master observed their cauldron for a minute before giving them a curt nod of approval and sweeping away.

"Ah yes, see here," Snape spoke up suddenly from Harry and Draco's station. The first-years strained to get a look at the cauldron. "Once you've stirred in your horned slugs your mixture should look precisely like this. Good work gentlemen, one point each to Gryffindor and Slytherin."

Snape glanced up then, noticing Hermione whispering rapidly at Neville whose cupped hands she was pulling away from their shared cauldron. Ignoring the stunned look on Harry's face, he made his way towards their corner of the room.

"What's going on here?" he drawled. Neville looked absolutely terrified.

"Forgive me, sir," Hermione said warily. "We nearly ruined our potion, but it's okay now."

Snape peered into their cauldron which was still bubbling over the open fire, then at the porcupine quills now laying on the stone bench beside it. "Interesting..." he muttered to himself. He seemed to consider this for a few more moments before refocusing on the issue at hand. "Well spotted, Miss Granger – I suggest you pay closer attention to detail in future, Mr. Longbottom."

"Y-Yes sir," the boy stammered.

The class continued much the same way, and as the first-years climbed the steps out of the dungeons two hours later, Harry's spirits were high. Not only had he answered all of Snape's questions correctly, but he'd earned a point for Gryffindor too. Perhaps he'd been wrong about the Potions Master – at the very least, it seemed the man's opinion of him had changed from dislike to begrudging respect.

"That was ... _wicked_ ," Ron gushed as they reached the staircase landing. "Snape said me and Theo's potion was really good. I really have to stop listening to Fred and George, they told me he was a mean old slime ball."

Harry laughed. "He looked like he would've bit my ears off if I hadn't answered those questions right at the start."

"And that was thanks to _who_?" Draco asked slyly, bounding into step on Harry's left side.

Harry rolled his eyes and grinned. "Okay, okay, you were right. I owe you one."

"And now we've got Hagrid to look forward to," Ron beamed, a bounce in his step now.

"Hagrid?" Draco frowned. "What are you visiting him for?"

"Received an owl this morning," Harry said. "Want to come?"

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Only because I'm in a good mood."

"You _cheated_." Blaise had caught up with them now and was giving Draco a mock look of betrayal. "So that's what you were doing yesterday afternoon, you snuck off to help Harry, didn't you?"

Draco looked smug. "Guilty. Want to come meet Hagrid with us?"

"That half-giant?" Blaise scoffed. "No thanks. Plus you ruined my fun."

And then he was gone.

At five to three, the boys met in front of the Great Hall and began to make their way across the grounds towards Hagrid's hut. The half-giant's wooden home stood just outside the Forbidden Forest, and a crossbow and a pair of galoshes sat outside the front door. Harry knocked on the door to the sound of several booming barks.

" _Back_ , Fang – _back_ ," they heard Hagrid's muffled voice say. A hairy face appeared in a crack in the door as he pulled it open. "Hang on – _back_ , Fang." He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of a giant black boarhound.

The three boys took the place in once they'd managed to make their way inside. The hut was just a single room; hams and pheasants hung from the ceiling, a copper kettle was burning on an open fire and a massive bed sat in the corner covered by a patchwork quilt.

"Make yerselves at home," Hagrid said.

He let go of Fang who bounded straight for Ron and started licking his ears, much to the red head's dismay. The animal seemed to notice Draco then, switching his attention to the blond boy who looked terrified as the dog put its giant nose right up against his face. Harry laughed. Like Hagrid, Fang didn't seem anywhere near as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid. The red head was rubbing at his ears furiously trying to wipe away where Fang had been licking him.

"Another Weasley, eh?" Hagrid said, glancing at Ron's freckles. He began pouring boiling water into a teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the Forest."

"And that," Harry said, peering down at the floor where Draco was now trapped under Fang, "is Draco."

Ron glanced over the top of the large couch he was sitting on and burst into laughter as he saw the blond boy squirming to get out from underneath the dog. It seemed Fang had decided Draco would make a nice bed and had promptly laid himself across his chest.

"Malfoy?" Hagrid asked warily. The boy in question had given up trying to escape and was now begrudgingly petting the huge dog.

Harry frowned. "Yes. Why, what's wrong?"

"Nothin', nothin'..."

And so, in between bites of rock cakes which almost broke their teeth, the boys told Hagrid all about their first week at school. Harry mentioned how Professor Flitwick had fallen off his stack of books at the sight of his name and Ron laughed at the memory of them both almost falling asleep in their very first History of Magic class. Fang seemed to get bored of Draco then, deciding to rest his head on Harry's knee instead which allowed the Slytherin boy to finally collapse into the seat next to Ron.

"Defence class was a joke," Draco said bitterly. "Quirrell's practically scared of his own shadow."

"Too right," Ron agreed. "Hey – does his turban smell funny to you?"

"Alright, alright, tha's enough o' that," Hagrid interrupted before the boys could get going. "Quirrell's a bit odd perhaps but a fine professor nonetheless."

Draco ignored him. "Next lesson we're going to say there's a spider behind him just to see him jump."

"Oh Merlin I _wish_ I could see that," Ron said.

Hagrid tried to hide his amused expression with a cough. "What about yer other classes then?"

"Potions was great," Harry said, scratching Fang behind the ears. "We all had it this morning. Me and Draco even earned a point for our houses."

Hagrid looked surprised. "Snape handin' out points ter Gryffindor? Not that I ain't mighty proud of yer Harry, just surprised is all. The professor isn't exactly known for coddlin' your lot."

"That's what Fred and George told me," Ron said.

The half-giant shrugged his shoulders. "Ah well. At least you boys have some friendly competition on yer hands. Not often you see snakes and lions mixin' with each other I must admit."

The subject changed then to one of Ron's older brothers, Charlie. While Draco listened to Ron aptly talking about his brother's work with dragons in Romania, Harry's focus drifted about the room and settled on a newspaper clipping that was sitting on the table. It was a cutting from the _Daily Prophet_ about the attempted robbery at Gringotts, though he didn't recall either Ron or Draco mentioning a date on the train.

"Hagrid!" he said. "That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

This bit of news seemed to pique Draco's interest even more than Charlie's dragons had a minute beforehand. "Hang on, you mean the day we met? Me and mother stopped by the bank that day too!"

"And neither of you _saw_ anything?" Ron gaped.

Harry shrugged. "I was too busy trying to make sure Hagrid didn't throw up on me."

"Hang on just o' second –"

" _The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day_ ," Draco read, cutting Hagrid off. "Can you imagine being that lucky? I wonder whose vault it was."

"Or what was so valuable someone tried to break into _Gringotts_ for it," Ron added.

"Yeah," Harry said, noticing the way in which Hagrid had suddenly averted his gaze. "I wonder."

As the three first-years left for dinner that night, their pockets weighed down by rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse (Harry had kicked Draco under the table), Harry could think of nothing other than the Gringotts break in. What did Hagrid know about it? What had been inside the grubby little package in vault seven hundred and thirteen? And if someone went to the trouble of breaking into Gringotts for it, what was to stop them from going after it now that it was out in the world?

* * *

 _Alternate chapter title: Or the one where Snape isn't a complete ass, and Hagrid maybe, probably, definitely knows something._


	4. The Muggleborn

_A/N: Sorry for the delay with this chapter, I've been caught up with work and family over the holidays. Also this turned out almost 3000 words longer than I'd originally intended it to be so oops. As always, thank you so much for the reviews/follows/favourites. They keep me motivated!_

* * *

The following Thursday at breakfast, Harry and Ron could hardly contain their excitement. Earlier in the week they'd been drawn to a commotion in the Gryffindor common room – about two dozen students crowded around the notice board talking rapidly amongst themselves. It was clear why when they realised that the timetable for flying lessons had been posted. Gryffindor first-years were to attend theirs on Thursday mornings, and even better than that was that they would be learning with the Slytherins.

" _I_ think they should really create a step-by-step guide for this sort of thing," Hermione said indignantly, glancing up from the _Quidditch Through the Ages_ book she held tightly in her hands. "This really isn't fair to the people who haven't flown on a broom before."

"You're just mad because this is the one thing you can't memorise from a book," Ron scowled at her between mouthfuls of cereal.

Hermione turned her nose up at him. "We'll see about that."

Thankfully for Ron and the rest of the first-year Gryffindors who were within hearing range of her grievances, the post arrived. Harry didn't bother glancing up – he hadn't received any mail since the note from Hagrid the previous week – though almost jumped out of his seat when Neville who was sitting next to him barely managed to catch his own package.

"It's a Remembrall!" the boy said excitedly, opening it. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh ..." Neville's face fell as the Remembrall suddenly glowed scarlet. "...you've forgotten something ..."

"Uh oh," a new voice said.

The first-years glanced up to see Theo and Draco making their way towards them. Draco took a spare seat beside Seamus while Theo slipped in next to Ron. If any of the older students seemed to notice the mix of house colours at the table, they didn't say anything.

"What'd you forget, Neville?" Theo asked.

The boy in question sighed dejectedly. "I don't know."

"Rats."

"Here, these will make you feel better," Draco said, holding out a box of chocolate coated jellies. "Mum made them this morning."

A smile crept onto Neville's face. "Thanks, Draco."

"Hey, where's mine?" Harry grinned.

"You're a Gryffindor, so you don't get any," Draco smirked playfully.

Hermione slammed her book shut then, sighing irritably. "Oh will you be _quiet_." She quickly gathered up her things before looking pointedly at the group. "Honestly, it's impossible to get any studying done around here."

And with that, she stormed out of the Great Hall.

Draco arched an eyebrow. "What's her problem?"

"Don't get me started," Ron sighed.

Hermione's outburst quickly forgotten, the box of sweets made its way around the group as the conversation turned to Quidditch and their upcoming flying lesson. Their small circle could barely contain their laughter as Draco and Ron ended up getting into a heated debate about whose team was better, only ending when Ron threw a piece of toast at the Slytherin boy. Draco looked as though he'd just been told his family had become inexplicably bankrupt which only caused the group to descend into another fit of giggles. Before long, breakfast was over however, and the first-years parted ways with the promise of seeing each other later that day.

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, the Gryffindors made their way outside the castle and towards the smooth stretch of lawn which served as the practice area for flying lessons. The Slytherins were already there, and next to them, twenty brooms were laid out in rows of ten opposite each other.

As they got closer, Harry realised Draco was talking animatedly about the time he escaped a group of Muggles in helicopters on his broomstick – a story which he'd already told Harry, and though the raven-haired boy hadn't said so, one which he hadn't quite believed. It seemed the Slytherins didn't quite believe the story either as they looked as though they were hardly listening. Daphne was looking rather bored at her nails while Tracey mimicked the blond boy from behind the cover of Vincent and Greg.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived then. Her piercing yellow eyes glanced over the group before she spoke up. "Well, what are you all waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

The first-years quickly did as they were told, the Gryffindors lining up on one side and the Slytherins on the other. Draco was opposite Harry, Blaise was opposite Ron, and Theo was opposite Neville who was looking absolutely terrified.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'" Madam Hooch called from the front.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, as did Draco's. The two boys grinned up at each other as theirs were two of the few that did. Ron's broom handle smacked him in the face which caused Blaise to burst out laughing at his misfortune, the red head only feeling better when he noticed Hermione's broom was barely rolling about on the ground. Neville's broom hadn't moved at all which seemed to suit the scared boy just fine.

Madam Hooch instructed them on how to mount their brooms properly, then went up and down the rows correcting everyone's grip. Draco looked very irritated when she told him he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," she said. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two –"

She was cut off by Neville suddenly shooting into the air. Nervous and jumpy, he'd been scared of being left on the ground and had pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted.

But Neville was rising high up into the air – twelve feet – twenty feet. Draco watched as Neville's face turned white in horror, and before he could even process what he was doing, he was shooting up into the air on his broom trying to chase down the Gryffindor boy.

"Mr. _Malfoy_!" Madam Hooch yelled in disbelief. "Come back down here this _instant_!"

But Draco wasn't listening. All he could focus on was Neville who was now looking dangerously close to slipping off the back of his broom.

"Oh Merlin," he muttered when he realised what was about to happen.

Sure enough, Neville glanced down at the ground falling away beneath him, gasped and fell off his broom. Draco shot towards him and only just managed to grab Neville's hand as he fell, inwardly cursing the school brooms when his gave a little jolt. The Gryffindor boy was heavier than he anticipated and Draco struggled to stay upright himself.

"Hang _on_ , Neville," he said through gritted teeth in an attempt to stop the other boy from flailing about.

Their landing was far from graceful. The old school broom bucked and swayed under the imbalance of weight, and Draco let go of Neville once they were close enough to the ground before he too jutted to a stop in a heap on the grass.

"Mr. _Malfoy_ ," Madam Hooch hissed, storming towards the two boys. " _Never_ have I seen such utter defiance ..." She helped Neville up and was checking for injuries now. "Just a few scratches, dear, you'll be fine." She rounded on Draco who was brushing himself off. "And _you_ –"

"Neville could've gotten hurt–"

"Be quiet, Mr. Potter."

"Draco could have _died._ "

"That's _enough_ , Miss Parkinson," Madam Hooch snapped. "Mr. Malfoy you will see me straight after class, is that understood?"

Usually – with the exception of his parents – adults could do little to frighten Draco. His father was well connected and any trouble he ever found himself in could easily be swept under the rug in a matter of minutes. But there was something about Madam Hooch's piercing gaze which told him she was not one to be crossed, and Draco could do little more than nod numbly as the flying instructor's yellow eyes finally softened and refocused on the rest of the class.

"Good – now, where were we?"

The lesson continued in much the same way as it had before the incident, the only difference being that Neville was now safely planted on the ground observing the remainder of the class. Madam Hooch had pulled him aside a moment to explain that he would need remedial flying lessons before continuing on with the rest of the students, an arrangement that suited the Gryffindor boy just fine.

He watched contently as the witch gave the rest of the class instructions for simple exercises on the broomstick – how to speed up, slow down, rise higher into the air, drop lower and turn. For many of the students, the instructions were merely a formality – most had spent much of their childhoods learning to fly in the English countryside and couldn't wait to learn some of the more complicated maneuvers. Even Hermione had begun to get the hang of it despite a few initial hiccups, and before long, Madam Hooch was instructing the first-years to head for the broom shed.

"…and I needn't remind you that outside of this class, first-years aren't permitted to use the broomsticks!" she called out after them. "Mr. Malfoy, if you'll remain here, please."

Draco's heart sunk at the sound of his name being called. He'd hoped by some miracle that the witch had forgotten about the incident with Neville, though evidently not. He sighed dejectedly and handed his broom to Theo who pulled him into a quick one-armed huddle.

"I wouldn't worry too much, mate," he whispered. "Your father's on the school board, the worst she can give you is a detention maybe."

Draco managed half a smile as he began to backtrack towards the flying pitch. "Thanks, Theo."

Despite his friend's reassurance, Draco felt ill. He was going to be expelled, he was sure of it. His father could only push his influence so much, and with it being less than two weeks into the school term an incident this serious wouldn't be brushed over lightly. And what _of_ his father and mother? They would be mortified, their only son and heir to the Malfoy line expelled so soon after he began at Hogwarts. Perhaps they would forgive him long enough to have him enrolled at Durmstrang – his father knew the headmaster, it was possible…

Draco had been so consumed by his thoughts that he hadn't noticed he'd already made it back to where Madam Hooch was standing. The flying instructor was looking at him expectantly and he found he was suddenly at a loss as to what to say.

"What you did, Mr. Malfoy," she said suddenly, "was very stupid … but also very brave."

"I … what?" Draco gaped, finally finding his voice. Of all the things he'd expected her to say, _bravery_ certainly hadn't been one of them.

Madam Hooch folded her arms. "A fall like that would have been serious; you likely saved Mr. Longbottom a broken bone or two."

The colour began to return to Draco's cheeks and he couldn't help but grin. "You mean I'm not in trouble?"

"Oh, you most certainly are," Madam Hooch corrected. She had an amused glint in her eyes now as the triumphant look disappeared from Draco's face. "Learning to fly is just as much about listening to instructions as it is about skill, Mr. Malfoy. I called you back to the ground not because I didn't admire your intentions, but because I didn't need two of the children under my care injured instead of one." Draco was suddenly very interested in the grass beneath his feet. "However – you also displayed admirable skill under duress. I imagine that wasn't your first time on a broomstick?"

Draco nodded.

"Hmm …" Madam Hooch looked deep in thought for a moment. "Slytherin has possessed the best Quidditch team in the school for years, so I'm not about to go bending the first-year rule. No need to make the Quidditch Cup even harder for the other Houses to win. Nonetheless, I see no reason why you couldn't participate in a Slytherin training session once the season begins. I'm curious to see how you'd size up against the older students."

" _Quidditch?_ " Draco gawped, realising the opportunity he was being given. "But first-years never …"

"Precisely," Madam Hooch said at once. "You've got natural speed, Mr. Malfoy. I think with a bit of training and a proper racing broom you'd make a fine seeker on next year's team."

Draco, still dazed, barely managed a nod. "Thank you."

Madam Hooch gave him a stiff nod of approval in return. "As for your punishment, detention will be served this evening after dinner in the broom shed. Several of the school brooms are beginning to get jittery and need their tails clipped – as I'm sure you found out the hard way."

* * *

"You're _joking_."

It was dinner time, and Draco had just finished telling his group of friends what had unfolded after they'd left their flying lesson earlier that afternoon. Harry and Ron had joined the Slytherins at their table that evening. The red head had had a spoonful of mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"First-years aren't even allowed to ride _brooms_ ," Ron said, gobsmacked.

"And a whole year's worth of training," Greg added, looking almost dreamy. "There's no way you won't make the team next year. Not fair, mate."

Draco couldn't help but look smug. "It's only the one training session for now, but if I do well then who knows. Either way, I smell a new racing broom in next week's post."

"Not _fair_ ," Greg repeated.

"Saving Longbottom was awfully Gryffindor of you, Draco," Blaise smirked. He inclined his head towards Harry and Ron. "You sure these two aren't rubbing off on you?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Shut _up_ , Blaise."

"Hey, I'm just saying," the Slytherin boy shrugged. "You didn't even think before flying after him. Didn't listen to Hooch either."

"Well of course I didn't, he was going to fall off his broom," Draco frowned.

"Oh sod off, Blaise," Pansy said. " _I_ think it was very brave."

"Hellooo?" Daphne said rather dramatically. "Are we not going to talk about the fact that if for some unfortunate – but convenient – reason the current seeker can't play, Draco might be asked to step in? He'd be the youngest Quidditch player in a _century_."

"Your emphasis on 'convenient' scares me, Daph," Theo said. "And no, we didn't mention it because history is boring and as if anyone other than you would know that."

Ron shrugged. "I did."

"I like him," Daphne said.

"I don't," Blaise added.

Ron narrowed his eyes, even as his cheeks began to match the colour of his hair. "Feeling's mutual."

"Aw guys, I've made my first enemy," Blaise gushed with faux enthusiasm. His dismissive attitude only made Ron's cheeks turn a deep crimson.

"Blaise, I can think of at least five people who hate you," Vincent scoffed. "My cousin Sophie, that kid at Theo's birthday last ye –"

"And _as_ enemies," the Slytherin boy continued. "I declare a wizard duel. Midnight tonight, trophy room."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "As if you'd show up, you git. Five galleons says you rat Ron out to Filch the moment dinner's over."

"Malfoy, you wound me," Blaise said, raising his hand to his chest. "First you warn Harry about Snape and now this. I can't take you anywhere."

The blond boy smirked. Before Blaise could retort however, the gradually depleting plates of food in the center of their table were suddenly filled once more. Ron practically dove for a plate of chicken wings, the insult apparently forgotten.

Following his lead, the group of first-years each grabbed their own helping of seconds. They ate in comfortable silence for some time, the lapse in conversation made up for by the chatter of the other students in the Hall. From their position at the end of the Slytherin tables, they overheard one of the first-year Hufflepuffs, Ernie Macmillan, talking about the praise he'd received from Professor Sprout after a Herbology lesson as though he were the next Phyllida Spore. Pansy almost choked on a mouthful of roast beef trying not to laugh at his high opinion of himself.

By the time 7 o'clock came to pass, a number of students had begun to leave the Great Hall and Draco sighed. He didn't fancy another detention for tardiness, and so he rose from the table, watched as his plate cleaned itself and gave his friends a half-hearted two finger salute.

"See you later," he said.

* * *

It was two and a half hours later when Draco finally found himself climbing the stone steps which led from the castle grounds into Hogwarts' large Entrance Hall. Detention had been predictably dull, though he supposed it could have been worse. He was mostly left alone to tend to the school brooms, monitored only every now and then by Madam Hooch who had spent the majority of the time on the adjacent pitch planning her lessons for the following day.

However tedious the detention was however, Draco had been grateful for the distraction. He hadn't mentioned it at dinner, but Blaise's remark concerning his Gryffindor-like behaviour had struck a nerve. After all, he wasn't wrong. Draco _knew_ he hadchanged. Were it not for the fact that he'd befriended Harry before the Sorting, there was no doubt he would have maintained his hatred for the house purely based on principle.

And really, when he thought about it, all of it came down to Harry. Why he'd found himself sharing treats from home with the Gryffindors, why he was so determined to stand up for Ron and why he didn't hesitate to go after Neville. Why so many of the ideals surrounding blood that he'd been taught since he was a young boy were slowly becoming nothing more than the ramblings of his father.

He hadn't realised it until then, but he hadn't asked about another student's surname since the train ride to Hogwarts. Hadn't cared to. He'd been content to associate with the Gryffindors, and when Blaise had pointed out one night that a number of them were likely Muggleborns, Draco had promptly thrown his History of Magic textbook at the boy.

Despite Blaise's remarks, Draco didn't worry about his friend. Nor the rest of his friends for that matter. He'd been the unofficial leader of their group since they were young, and he knew they'd follow him wherever he went, even if they didn't wholly agree. His parents however, he couldn't help but worry about.

During his few weeks at Hogwarts he'd avoided mentioning Harry or Ron in his letters home. He knew what his father would ask of him if he knew his son was on friendly terms with the Boy Who Lived – _had_ already asked of him before the school year had even begun. Draco had expected he'd merely make his acquaintance with the raven-haired boy then report back to his father as the older Malfoy saw fit. But instead they'd met on the train and become _friends_. And Draco couldn't allow himself to betray the other boy.

As for Ron, he knew the red head would be dismissed immediately. His father's long-standing feud with Arthur Weasley was enough to warrant such a reaction, let alone his label as a blood traitor. But Ron was nice. He was witty and stood up for his friends and could argue why the Chudley Cannons were the best quidditch team in the league until the Great Lake froze over. Who he associated with shouldn't determine his worth as a person.

Draco sighed. His thoughts had carried him through the Entrance Hall and the cold, winding corridors leading down to the dungeons, and before he knew it he stood in front of the stone wall which barred him from the Slytherin common room.

" _Occultatum_ ," he muttered.

At twenty minutes to curfew, the common room was mostly empty. Some of the older students remained in a chair or two, still hard at work, but otherwise the crackling log fire was the only sign of life in the room. Draco ignored all of his fellow Slytherins, instead heading straight for the room he shared with his friends with the intention of penning a quick letter to his parents. The owlery wasn't exactly close, but he figured telling them about his possible inclusion in the Slytherin quidditch team would soften the blow when they were inevitably notified of his detention.

Ignoring a series of questions from Vincent and Blaise about his punishment, Draco tucked the letter into his robes and set off for the West Tower. He quickened his pace as he noticed the grandfather clock in the Entrance Hall read thirteen minutes to curfew, taking the stone steps up to the fourth floor two at a time.

Before long, and quite out of breath, Draco was climbing the spiral staircase up to the owlery. He'd barely reached the threshold however when he was suddenly knocked to the ground by someone else who had just been leaving. He glanced up with a scowl, when he realised that the other student was none other than Hermione Granger.

"Oh I'm sorry," she said, offering him a hand up. Draco ignored it, instead getting to his feet himself. "… I didn't see you," she said more quietly this time. "Though you _really_ shouldn't be out this late anyway. I was only up here for a moment to send a letter to my parents, I swear it, but Professor McGonagall asked me to return some books to the library for her, and I hadn't had a chance to send any news home in a few days so I thought –"

"Do you _ever_ stop talking?" Draco asked, cutting her off. His question had been genuine, though he realised too late how callous he had sounded. Hermione abruptly brushed past him and began her decent down the West tower and he frowned. "Hey. _Hey_."

When she didn't stop, he descended the few steps after her and grabbed her hand. The stairwell was lit only by medieval-style torches, and her bushy hair covered much of her face, yet it was clear that there were tears in her eyes. Draco inwardly cursed himself.

"Sorry," he said. "I've just … had a bit of a weird day."

Hermione sniffed. "It's fine." She removed her hand from Draco's and made to continue down the stairwell, when she suddenly paused and turned around once more. "Neville is grateful, by the way. For what you did."

Draco couldn't help the way his eyebrows raised slightly at her comment. At the very least, it appeared she wasn't going to begin crying after all. "It wasn't really – I mean he was going to fall, I had to do something."

Hermione's brows furrowed. "You … you're not … I mean, all the books I read said Slytherin was …"

"Bad?" Draco supplied. He felt like scoffing, but didn't want to upset the girl again.

"Sort of … when I was told I was a witch, I read _so_ many books," she said softly, a hint of a smile on her face as though she were thinking of the memory. "I thought … I thought that there could be nothing bad about this place. But then I kept reading …"

"… and you found out about all the bad stuff?" Draco offered once more. The revelation that she was a Muggleborn hardly surprised him. Her surname was unfamiliar, and in any case, she recited facts about the Wizarding world so detailed it was as though she'd memorised them from a page.

Hermione nodded. "I read about You-Know-Who and what he did … that he and most of his followers came from your House and I thought … I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound rude. I mean, this is all new to me and I've always relied so much on books though I suppose you're the exception – though your friends seem nice too, I don't understand. I mean, I read about blood prejudice which I thought was so _archaic_ , I mean that would be like if we still judged people based on their race in the Muggle world –"

"Muggles are prejudiced against _race_?" Draco scoffed, eyes narrowing. "But you can't control the way you look, the way you were born, that's so …"

"Stupid?" Hermione supplied this time. She was smiling now, as though she'd just witnessed the lightbulb ignite in his mind.

"Yeah." Draco couldn't help but let out a huff of laughter. "You know, you're … not what I expected, either."

Hermione smiled, though her eyes looked sad. "I've never been good at making friends, even in the Muggle world. I thought that maybe Hogwarts would be my chance to start over, though I suppose not. I mean, Neville's nice, though he usually only talks to me during classes. People just see the books, I guess, and I know I can get in other people's business sometimes but I just can't help it, I mean I've always liked rules and order but it tends to put people off, but that's _me_ and … what?"

Draco was frowning at her.

"You … you can come hang out with me and my friends," he said quietly. "Sit with us during meals and such."

Hermione couldn't help the way her lips formed a small 'o' in surprise.

"I mean if you want to," Draco added quickly.

"No that … that would be –"

What it was however, the blond didn't find out. A loud, booming bell rang throughout the castle at that moment, signaling the beginning of curfew. Hermione's face went white.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "I've never been out after curfew before, I knew I shouldn't have risked coming out here so late, we're going to get caught and get detention – I've _never_ gotten detention before –"

" _Hey!_ " Draco hissed, cutting her off yet again. "We _will_ get caught if you keep shouting about it."

Hermione tried to take a deep breath, though it didn't seem to do much good. "Okay … okay, it'll be fine. We just … what do we _do_?" She was beginning to panic again. "I only know my way back to Gryffindor tower from here, I mean it's not that far but Filch's horrible cat is always lurking around and –"

"Your common room isn't that far?" Draco said, his eyebrows furrowing. Hermione could practically see the plan forming in his mind. "Then that's where we're going."

He brushed past the brunette and set off down the West tower, much to her indignation.

"Where do you think you're _going_?" she whispered furiously. When the boy didn't stop, she hurried after him. "You can't just go to Gryffindor tower – you don't even know where it _is_. And even if you did I can't let _you_ in _._ No one other than a Gryffindor has set foot in that common room in over seven hundred years! Percy said –"

Draco stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairwell, and she almost ran into him in her hurry to catch up. "Hermione – the Slytherin dungeons are down near the potions classroom. If I go down there I'll get caught for sure." When the brunette only pouted in response, Draco saw his opportunity to get through to her. "You let me in with you, I hole up in the common room for the night and leave in the morning before anyone wakes up. I won't get caught by Filch and no one will ever know that you broke a rule seven centuries old."

Hermione continued to pout for a few more moments before sighing in defeat. The blond had already suffered through a detention for Neville, then offered her a chance at finally making friends. And friends help each other.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she finally muttered, more to herself. "Follow me."

Draco couldn't help the triumphant grin which spread across his face as the brunette disappeared into the castle's dark hallways. The occasional torch was their only source of light as Hermione led the way along a series of long, narrow corridors, and after some time Draco struggled to keep up. Down one staircase, up another, the two kept their footfalls as quiet as possible. After yet another staircase, Draco was tiring and beginning to wonder just how much further it would be when he suddenly heard the soft hiss of the last being either of them wanted to run into. He abruptly grabbed Hermione's wrist, silencing her look of fury with wide eyes.

"Don't breathe," he mouthed. He slowly turned his head towards the end of the corridor they had just entered where sure enough, Mrs. Norris was stalking about. It appeared the cat hadn't yet noticed them however, seemingly more interested in trying to terrorise the inhabitants of an oil painting than the two first-years.

Still holding Hermione's wrist, Draco began to slowly back them both out of the corridor. They would just have to find another way to Gryffindor tower, he mused. Just as he thought they were going to escape unnoticed however, he abruptly froze once again. Something had brushed against his leg, and he was afraid he knew exactly what it was.

"Mrreooooow …"

The two first-years glanced at each other like deer caught in headlights, then down to the floor in horror. Somehow, Mrs. Norris was now stalking around their feet, her yellow eyes narrowed as though she knew they were somewhere they shouldn't be.

"RUN!" Draco yelled.

Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She bolted down the corridor with the oil painting, Draco following close behind. They sprinted around a corner, down a corridor lined with marble busts and up yet another set of stairs. Finally, wheezing and panting, the two first-years reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout, pig snout!" Hermione gasped before the portrait even had a chance to ask for the password. Rather than letting the secret entrance swing open however, the Fat Lady's eyes narrowed at the brunette.

"That is not the password," she snapped.

""What are you talking about?" Hermione's heart began to race even faster, if that were possible. "Of _course_ it's the password, it was only posted on the noticeboard at the start of this week!"

"That was true," the Fat Lady said. "Until the password was changed just moments ago when you attempted to let a student from another house into Gryffindor tower. You have been barred for the next twenty-four hours, or until another Gryffindor student pities you enough to inform you of the new password, whichever comes first."

The colour drained from Draco's cheeks as he realised what was happening. "Please – Filch will be here any second, we just need somewhere to hide!"

"Password?" was all the Fat Lady said.

Draco huffed, turned to Hermione and tugged her arm. "We have to go _now_."

For once, the brunette didn't open her mouth to argue and instead took off after him. The two backtracked down the stairs and through the corridors with the busts and the oil painting. Mrs. Norris was no longer there, and Draco figured she'd run off to find Filch.

"Get us back – to the Entrance – Hall," he gasped, having slowed to a quick walk. "I'll get us – to the dungeons – from there."

Hermione was too panicked to protest. "Follow me."

And they ran. Down a winding staircase, through a corridor lined with tapestries and out into an open landing. They'd reached the main set of staircases which led down to the castle's main entranceway, and Hermione peered over the top of the banister to get her bearings.

"Down – there," she heaved, pointing the way.

And they were off again. The two sprinted down the stone staircases, much to the annoyance of the inhabitants of the paintings which lined the walls alongside them. Somehow, despite the stomping of their feet against stone, they remained unseen as they reached the castle's foyer area. Draco whirled his head from left to right.

"This way," he said, taking off to his left.

Hermione was winded now as she followed the blond down a set of marble steps, a number of dark and clammy corridors, then down another series of stairs. Finally, they reached the dungeon corridor and dragged themselves down a final set of stairs before reaching the stone wall which concealed the Slytherin common room. Hermione, unaware of this, frowned until she heard Draco speak.

" _Occultatum_."

Despite how tired she was, she couldn't help but watch in awe as the word appeared like gold sparks in front of them before fading into the stone. As the wall began to slide across, Draco motioned for her to stay silent and keep out of sight while he observed the situation in the common room. They needn't have worried, however. The room was mercifully empty, save for one fifth-year boy who had fallen asleep on one of the plush sofas by the fire. Draco motioned for Hermione to enter the room, and as she did, she gasped.

The room truly was beautiful. While the Gryffindor common room gave off an aura of comfort and coziness, the Slytherin equivalent boasted elegance and a long history. She wanted nothing more than to run her hands through the room's tapestries and interpret their stories, though by the way Draco was furiously trying to beckon her towards the entrance to a hallway on her left, she wouldn't get the chance.

The blond boy directed her through the archway then down a corridor to their left, finally coming to a stop in front of a large, black wooden door marked 'First-years', complete with an iron knocker. Draco rapped against the door, and a moment later, Theo appeared in the crack between the wood and the stone frame, his face marked with worry.

"Merlin, Draco, where have you bee –" Theo cut himself off when he noticed Hermione standing beside his friend, both of them looking flushed and completely out of breath.

"Get in," he said, opening the door further. "And explain."

* * *

 _Alternate chapter title: or the one where Draco and Hermione run a ten-mile marathon through Hogwarts and don't discover the hiding place of any super secret packages because that would be far too convenient._


	5. The Troll

_A/N: Apologies for the delay, been caught up with some irl stuff. This is the longest chapter yet though, so hopefully it was worth the wait!_

* * *

Draco shuffled his feet and glanced around the room warily. The Slytherin boys were scattered about their dorm – Vincent, Greg and Blaise sat perched on their beds, while Theo remained leaning on the stone wall beside the door. Draco had just finished explaining how exactly Hermione had come to be in their common room that night, only to have been met with blank faces from his friends.

Beside him, Hermione appeared as though she were very interested in the stone floor. The thought of getting caught roaming the halls after curfew had frightened her enough that she'd been willing to do anything to get out of harm's way. Now that the adrenaline of running through Hogwarts' halls had died down however, she was suddenly very aware that she was in the middle of the snake's pit. No matter what she thought of Draco's friends their blank expressions spoke volumes, and if the tapestries lining the Slytherin common room had been any indicator, the house prided themselves on their history. She was certainly not supposed to be there.

"We need Pans," Theo said finally, breaking the silence.

Draco's eyes went wide. "Are you _mad_ _?_ She'll feed me to the giant squid for this!"

"Well she can't stay here," he replied matter-of-factly. His gaze met Hermione's for a half second before flicking back to Draco. "Her honour and all that."

The blond boy sighed. "I know, I know."

"I'm sorry, my what?" Hermione frowned. Her eyes widened slightly as her brain caught up to her mouth and realised she'd interrupted. Vincent shrugged her worry away, however.

"It's a pureblood thing," he explained. "Boys and girls … well we're not supposed to stay in the same room overnight so that no one thinks … well, your _honour_."

Hermione's eyes widened in alarm as she finally understood and she screwed up her nose. "That's _disgusting!_ We're _eleven_."

"And we're Pureblood," Blaise shrugged.

Greg rolled his eyes. "Blaise, my dog is more Pureblood than you are."

"Getting back to the issue at _hand_ ," Theo said, raising his voice over the others. He turned to Hermione. "Not that we don't appreciate you trying to protect Malfoy the way you did, really we do. But this isn't just about old customs – if we're going to get you out of here unseen in the morning, we're going to need all the help we can get – and that means telling Pansy what's happened here."

He directed the last part at Draco and the blond boy huffed in defeat. "Fine, _fine._ Let's get this over with, then."

Five minutes later, Hermione found herself standing awkwardly to the side in the first-year Slytherin girls' room as Pansy furiously whispered at Draco in the opposite corner. Theo had given her the short version of events before the Slytherin girl could unleash her reign of terror on the both of them, before wishing Hermione good night and leaving Draco to the metaphorical wolves. Despite Pansy's hushed tone, the tension in the room was thick and the rest of the Slytherin girls had remained silent and rigid from the moment Hermione had entered the room, so it wasn't hard to hear their argument.

"What were you _thinking_ Draco?"

"She had nowhere else to –"

"Were you _even_ thinking?"

" _Yes_ Pans, Merlin would you listen to me?" The raven-haired girl wrinkled her nose but finally remained silent and Draco sighed in relief. "She's barred from her own common room because she tried to do the same for me. I owe her."

It was Pansy's turn to sigh as she briefly glanced at Hermione, then turned back to Draco. "You owe _me_."

Draco visibly relaxed, a triumphant smirk making its way onto his face. "You're the best, Pans."

"I know," she said, rolling her eyes, though she wasn't quite able to stop an exasperated smile from appearing on her face. "Now get out of here."

Draco didn't need to be told twice. He grinned at the remaining Slytherin girls, giving them a mock bow in farewell before turning to Hermione and flashing a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about this lot, they're great, even if Pans is terrifying. But she's brilliant – she'll get you out of here, I guarantee it."

He just barely managed to catch a glimpse of Hermione's shy nod in reply before Pansy shooed him out of the room with a huff. Once the door was closed, she turned to face Hermione who was willing herself to melt into the stone wall behind her to no avail. Pansy's hard gaze seem to bore into her own for several moments, then suddenly, she burst into laughter.

"Salazar, his _face_ ," she cackled, leaning against the wall by the door for support. She looked up at Hermione again, this time wholeheartedly amused. "What did you think, too much?"

Hermione blinked, completely caught off guard. She opened her mouth several times but no noise seemed to come out. For once, she had absolutely no idea what to say.

"Oh stop it Pans, you're scaring her," Daphne said, rolling her eyes, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice too. She got up from her four-poster bed and made her way over to Hermione who was still standing rigid by the doorway and took her hands in hers. "I suppose introductions are in order seeing as we don't share many classes together – I'm Daphne Greengrass, and this is Millie, Tracey and Sally."

"And you've already had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting Pansy," Millie said lazily from her bed, half into her pillow.

"Oh I _so_ want to hex you into the next life," Pansy shot back.

"Try me, witch."

Hermione would've thought the threats were genuine if both girls hadn't looked so amused. The group's antics were nothing like she'd experienced with the first-year Gryffindor girls and she couldn't help the smile that slowly crept onto her face. This was … nice. So this was what it felt like to have friends, to have people who genuinely wanted to keep you company. Pansy seemed to notice her relax slightly, and the next thing Hermione knew, she'd taken one of her hands from Daphne's and was being dragged into the large adjacent ensuite by the two Slytherin girls.

"First thing's first," Pansy said, eyeing up an obscenely large collection of beauty products and hair potions on the counter, "we need to make you blend in with the rest of us – and that means making you unrecognisable."

* * *

The following morning, Harry and Ron had barely made it half way down the spiral staircase leading to the Gryffindor common room when Seamus popped his head up the stairwell and all but dragged the two boys the rest of the way down. Before either of them could ask what the problem was however, they arrived at the landing and noticed a large group of students crowded around the notice board.

"What's going on?" Ron frowned.

"Password got changed in the middle of the night," Seamus replied, clearing a path amongst the sea of Gryffindors so that his friends could get a closer look. "No one knows why – the Fat Lady won't tell us. But I heard a sixth-year saying this hasn't happened in a few hundred years."

"Out of the way – _excuse_ me, Prefect coming through. I said out of the _way_ ," Percy snapped rather pompously as he pushed his way through the crowd. His red hair was sticking up at the back and he was still wearing his pyjamas, apparently having only just gotten out of bed. He narrowed his eyes at the board for a moment before turning to the rest of the students irritably. "Nothing to see here, I suggest you move along now. Breakfast finishes in half an hour."

"Yeah Perc, _move along now_ ," Fred called out mockingly.

"Don't forget your slippers!" George added.

The twins made a beeline for the portrait hole then, as did many of the other Gryffindors who couldn't quite contain their laughter and didn't want to risk losing house points to an ill-tempered Percy Weasley.

As it turned out, the password change wasn't the only interesting news that morning. On the way down to the Great Hall, Lavender Brown was telling anyone who would listen that Hermione Granger had never returned to Gryffindor Tower the previous night. She and Pavarti Patil gossiped about it all the way down to the Great Hall, where they were surprised to find the girl in question already seated at the Gryffindor table nursing a steaming cup of tea. From underneath wild, unbrushed curls, Hermione explained that she'd been locked in the library the previous night and had been too scared to try and leave.

"Well it's not like you could have got into Gryffindor Tower anyway," Pavarti shrugged. "The password was changed overnight."

Hermione frowned. "What, why?"

"No one knows," Neville replied, slipping into the seat beside her. "Though I really wish it hadn't, I only just memorised the last one. The new one is um –" He retrieved a scrap of paper from his pocket and unfolded it, "– open sesame."

Hermione couldn't help but snort. "Thank you, Neville. I'll have to run and get my things before class."

As her fellow first years began to serve themselves breakfast, no one noticed the triumphant smile Hermione sent Pansy's way.

* * *

Within the week, Hermione was eating most meals with the Slytherins. She, alongside Pansy and Daphne had later retold the tale of her escape to Draco and the others – which had involved at least two jars of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, a handy charm Hermione had taught herself to change the colour of her robes and a crash course from Pansy on how to not suck at lying to people. Hermione had been walked out of the common room as one of their own, changed the colour of her robes back to their usual red, washed the Sleekeazy out of her hair in the girls' toilets then feigned exhaustion in front of her fellow Gryffindors as she fed them the lie about being locked in the library.

The first-year Slytherin boys were thoroughly impressed, and despite how many school rules she'd just broken, Hermione was grateful for her new group of friends and admitted only to herself that she couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun.

The only other Gryffindor who came to learn the truth about that night was Harry, who joined the group for meals so frequently it was impossible not to tell him. Draco had sworn him to secrecy and the raven-haired boy had promised, which turned out to be a smart move once they found out why Ron had been avoiding meals with them. According to Harry the red head didn't like Hermione one bit, especially since she had joined the group of Slytherins, and had made a point of sitting wherever she wasn't. Hermione had been visibly upset to hear this, but Blaise squeezed her hand in comfort and called Ron a 'great sizzling dragon bogie' which cheered her up immensely.

Harry and Hermione quickly settled into a routine of meeting up before mealtimes and heading down to the Great Hall together, much to Ron's dismay. Hermione, against her better judgement, quickly grew tired of the boy and secretly wished for a way to make him regret his behaviour – luckily, her wish was granted about a week later as she and Harry arrived at breakfast in time for the morning's post.

Hundreds of owls hooted and screeched as they made their deliveries for the morning, though there was one package in particular which had caught everyone's eye. Above them, six screech owls were carrying a long, thin package towards the other end of the room. Harry and Hermione watched as the owls swooped low enough to drop the package around their usual spot at the Slytherin table, confirmed by a loud curse from Blaise as his bacon went flying. A single eagle owl followed and dropped a smaller package in the same spot but didn't follow the screech owls out of the Hall.

Harry glanced at Hermione a moment, a grin on his face.

"Come on!" he said excitedly, taking off towards the first-year Slytherins.

As it turned out, both of the packages had been for Draco. The two Gryffindors arrived to find the blond, Vincent and Blaise covered in their breakfast, the latter of whom was sending daggers at Draco's eagle owl. The owl in question had made himself at home on his master's shoulder and looked very pleased with himself, picking a piece of sausage out of Draco's blond hair.

"That owl is a right menace," Blaise scowled, wiping bits of egg off his robes with a napkin.

"Oh leave the poor thing alone," Hermione scolded as she took a seat opposite the boy, making room for Harry to sit beside her. "He's _beautiful_. What's his name, Draco?"

The owl hooted happily at Hermione and Draco sighed. "His name's Bartemius. He's completely daft but I wouldn't have it any other way. Right, Barty?"

Hermione could've sworn the owl nodded eagerly in response and her heart melted. Blaise only seemed to grow more infuriated however and looked as though he were about to start cursing the owl to Azkaban and back, when Marcus Flint joined the huddle and banished the mess with a quick _evanesco_.

"Thank Merlin," Blaise sighed in relief. "These robes are silk."

"Oh sod your robes," Marcus huffed, though he was grinning. He inclined his head towards the large package. "Go on then Malfoy, open it."

"Ah, so that's why you're here," Draco smirked. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a few of the first-year Hufflepuffs not-so-subtly trying to get a look at the package and he rolled his eyes. "Here, Theo." He handed the other boy the smaller package which had a letter attached to it. "It'll be the sweets from mother, see what she says."

Theo unboxed the sweets – this time two dozen evenly cut pieces of red velvet cake – and passed them around as Draco unwrapped the larger parcel with haste. Theo didn't even get the chance to unravel the parchment from Mrs. Malfoy before the group collectively gasped. Inside the package was a brand new, top of the line Nimbus Two Thousand. Draco softly ran his fingers over the mahogany handle and the gold letters which declared its model while Harry, Greg and Vincent looked as though they were about to drool.

" _Dear Draco_ ," Theo began reading aloud. " _Despite your recent detention, I couldn't possibly be disappointed with the reason you received it. I talked to your father, and while he didn't necessarily feel the same way, he did promise you a new racing broom should you make the Slytherin Quidditch team. You may not be on the team yet, but the opportunity to train with your fellow housemates in your first year is a unique one and I wanted to ensure you have the best chance possible of seeing that dream fulfilled. Please share the cake with your friends and send my love to the boys and girls for me. Love mother_."

"Narcissa is such a gem, honestly," Daphne gushed, reaching for a piece of cake.

No sooner had the group taken in the sight of the new broom however, when they were suddenly joined by an overly excited Ron Weasley.

"I saw the package come in," he said breathlessly. He glanced down at the table then and almost went bug eyed. "Is that – is that a Nimbus Two _Thousand?_ "

From her place at the table next to him, Hermione glanced down at her plate, silently fuming, while Harry looked very uncomfortable.

"Um, yeah," Draco said half-heartedly.

" _Wicked!_ " Ron gushed as though nothing was wrong.

Blaise noticed the look on Hermione's face however and was having none of it. "Didn't you choose to bugger off just a week ago, Weasley?"

Ron's cheeks flushed instantly. "I suppose … but …"

"No," Blaise snapped. Bartemius seemed to agree with the boy, hooting angrily at the red head. "Hermione's our friend. You don't insult her then show up and pretend like she's not even here."

"So she's fine and I'm not?" Ron asked angrily. By this point, Hermione was close to tears.

"Yes, she is," Blaise hissed. "You don't like her? Well I don't like you."

Ron opened his mouth several times to retort, but no sound came out as tears welled up in his eyes. His cheeks burning crimson now, Ron turned and fled from the Great Hall.

"Don't you think that was a bit … mean?" Hermione asked quietly once he was out of earshot, even as she took the hand Blaise offered her across the table.

"He deserved it," he replied bluntly.

Beside him, Draco looked conflicted, though didn't say anything.

"So," Pansy said suddenly as though nothing had happened. She glanced up at Marcus, who had watched the altercation with twisted amusement. "How soon do you start training? I'm not sure the boys will be able to stand having this thing just sitting around for much longer."

Marcus grinned. "9AM this Saturday, Quidditch pitch," He looked pointedly at Draco. "And absolutely _no_ trying to ride that thing before then. This isn't a 'don't get caught' scenario – I'm responsible and I don't need Hooch breathing down my neck because you can't wait until then."

Draco – alongside Vincent, Greg and Harry – looked utterly dismayed, though he nodded in understanding. He glanced at the large grandfather clock behind the staff table, its minute hand barely moving, and sighed. It was going to be a long few days.

* * *

Draco had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his classes throughout the remainder of the week. All through Thursday and Friday, his mind kept drifting to his new Nimbus Two Thousand proudly displayed next to his bed, or the Quidditch pitch where he'd be flying alongside the best players his house had to offer.

When Saturday morning finally arrived, Draco, Vincent and Greg bolted for the Great Hall, where a very excited Harry and a very irritable looking Hermione were already waiting for them just outside the massive doorway.

" _There_ you are," Harry grinned. He was bouncing on the spot from foot to foot, too excited to stand still.

Next to him, Hermione rolled her eyes, a book on charms clutched tightly in her hands. "Honestly, I don't understand what the big deal is. It's just a _broom_."

Greg, who was twice her size, promptly dragged her into the Great Hall behind a very offended-looking Draco.

Within fifteen minutes, the four boys had practically inhaled their breakfast, hardly noticing what they were eating and only slowing down a fraction when Hermione complained that their table etiquette was horrendous. No amount of grumbling was enough to contain their excitement however, and the brunette found herself being dragged towards the Quidditch pitch against her will with half a piece of toast still in her hand.

By the time they arrived, they were still half an hour early, but the boys couldn't contain their excitement any longer. Even Hermione, who didn't particularly care for flying, couldn't help but marvel at the wooden spectator stands which circled the pitch and rose high into the sky. With a quick glance back towards the castle to ensure Madam Hooch wasn't lurking about, Draco stepped over the handle of his broom and kicked off the ground.

The feeling was like nothing he'd ever felt before – the Nimbus Two Thousand was much faster than his old Comet Two Sixty, and Draco was eager to see how far he could push it. From the ground, his friends cheered as he zoomed up and down the pitch, doing several loop-de-loops through the large, circular goal posts before touching back down on the ground.

"Hooch was right, you're a damn good flier, Malfoy."

The first-years glanced behind them and saw Marcus Flint arriving, his broom in one hand and a large, wooden crate in the other. With him was another boy with sandy coloured hair who looked a few years older than them.

"Thought you lot might be here early and figured I'd come and set up," Marcus said, laying the wooden crate by his feet. He inclined his head towards the boy beside him. "This is Terence Higgs, our current Seeker. I asked him to come along and give you some pointers before the others arrive."

"I'll be leaving the team at the end of this season," Terence said quickly. "I'm going into fifth year next year and need to focus on my studies without distractions, as much as I love Quidditch."

Draco was relieved to hear the other boy was leaving the team of his own accord, rather than being forced from the position. It would've been quite awkward otherwise, taking pointers from someone who possibly resented him for competing for their spot on the team.

"Right then, you four," Marcus said, inclining his head towards Vincent, Greg, Harry and Hermione, "clear off up to the stands, would you? And if you two –" He glanced at the two Gryffindors, "– breath a word of any of this to the Gryffindor team, I'll toss you into the Forbidden Forest myself."

Harry and Hermione, not even sure who was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, or how the game even worked, nodded nervously.

"Right then, Malfoy – let's see how you stack up against Higgs."

For the next fifteen minutes, the four first-years watched from the stands as Draco and Terence competed to find a small, evasive golden ball with wings. Greg explained to a mesmerised Harry that the ball – called the Golden Snitch – was the most important of them all, as it was worth a hundred and fifty points for your team. It was the Seeker's job to find and catch it before the other team's Seeker as it ended the game, and by catching it your team almost always won.

Harry thought the position seemed rather easy, even as he watched Draco struggle to keep track of the tiny ball. His opinion changed quite quickly however as the remaining team members, followed by Madam Hooch, made it to the Quidditch pitch and joined them in the sky.

It turned out there were three other balls – the Quaffle, a red ball used to score goals through the three large rings at either end of the pitch, and two Bludgers, balls which hurtled about the air trying to knock players off their brooms. There were two Beaters on each team, whose role was to keep the Bludgers away from their teammates, and three Chasers who were in charge of scoring goals. The seventh member of the team was the Keeper, who tried to stop the other team from scoring.

By the time an exhilarated Draco touched back down on the ground a few hours later, Harry couldn't wait until the Quidditch season officially started. The game was quite mad, and yet he quickly decided he wanted nothing more than to play for the Gryffindor team in his second year. Flying was the one thing he seemed to be naturally good at so far and the thought of representing his house filled him with immense joy.

* * *

Perhaps it was because he had Quidditch training to look forward to every fortnight, as Madam Hooch had granted him permission to continue the experiment after his first session, but Draco could hardly believe it when he realised he'd already been at Hogwarts for two months. The warm, crowded environment Hogwarts offered was a stark contrast to the large, empty Manor he called home, and though Draco missed his parents dearly, he found he much preferred the company of his friends.

Classes were beginning to become much more interesting too now that they had mastered the basics. On Halloween morning, the Slytherins woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin which had managed to waft all the way down to the dungeons. Even better was that Professor McGonagall announced in Transfiguration class later that morning that they were ready to try their first practical transfiguration, something they'd been dying to try since she'd conjured a flock of birds from the tip of her wand during their first lesson.

What they ended up attempting was far simpler than they were hoping for – turning a matchstick into a needle – though even so, the class of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs struggled to do more than make the ends of their matchsticks slightly pointy. Draco seemed to be the only one who'd made decent progress by the end of the lesson, and Professor McGonagall proudly displayed his slightly silver matchstick for the rest of the class to see.

It was on their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts later that morning when the group of Slytherins were briefly joined by Harry and Hermione. The brunette seemed very smug, talking animatedly about the Charms class they had just come from.

"And then he was all like: ' _You do it, then, if you're so clever'_ ," she said, imitating Ron Weasley who she had been forced to partner up with during the lesson. "I did it on my first try, of course. You should've seen his _face_."

Someone knocked into Hermione then as they rushed past her – it was Ron. Harry caught a glimpse of his face and was startled to see his eyes looked rather glassy.

"I think he heard you," he said awkwardly.

"Who cares?" Blaise smirked. He slung an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Let Weasley cry about it."

But Hermione, who knew what it felt like to be teased, couldn't help but feel horrible.

Ron didn't turn up to their next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. Hermione only felt even worse when, on her way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Neville told her that he'd spotted Ron sitting by the Great Lake all afternoon and said he wanted to be left alone. She considered trying to find the boy and apologise, but a moment later she entered the Great Hall with Harry and forgot about the red head almost instantly. The Hall looked incredible – thousands of live bats swooped around the room, while hundreds of carved pumpkins and candles floated mid-air, giving off an eerie glow.

They stopped briefly at the Slytherin table to say hello to Draco and the others before making it back to the Gryffindor table just in time for the feast to start. The food appeared before them suddenly just as it had at the start-of-term banquet, and Hermione was just noting the absence of Snape from the high table in between bites of a candy apple when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face.

"Troll, in the dungeons!" he yelled. "Thought you ought to know."

And then he fainted.

The room quickly descended into chaos. A group of girls at the Ravenclaw table collectively shrieked in terror, while the students closest to the Hall's entranceway began to dart from the room. It took several loud, purple sparks from the tip of Dumbledore's wand to bring the situation under control.

"Prefects, lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!" he ordered.

While the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students seemed to calm down somewhat, the Slytherin students only seemed to become more distressed.

"But _our_ dorms are in the dungeons," Daphne hissed, not caring about how scared she looked.

"It's Dumbledore, what do you expect?" Vincent scowled. He glanced back at the Headmaster who was gathering the Professors. "He doesn't give a toss about our lot."

"Wait – where's Professor Snape?" Tracey said suddenly, her gaze darting from the group of teachers to the other end of the room where Gemma Farley and Marcus Flint were leading the younger students out of the Hall.

"What if he's already gone down to the dungeons to fight the troll on his own?" Daphne asked, suddenly looking very pale.

Draco shook his head. "He's protective, not stupid. And how did a troll even get in, anyway?"

No one had a chance to answer however, as they finally left the Great Hall and entered the main entranceway. Despite the students having been separated into their houses, the area was quite chaotic as different groups of people hurried in all directions. Draco jostled his way past a few Hufflepuffs and made to jog slightly to keep up with his friends, when he was suddenly knocked into rather roughly.

"Oi, careful!" he called out. He turned around to get a look at the culprit and his eyes met those of a raven-haired boy about his age. Then his world suddenly went dark.

Instead of the panic of the Entrance Hall, his surroundings were now quiet as Draco realised he was in a different part of the castle. A quick look around told him he was near the Transfiguration classroom around the corner from the girl's toilets, when a foul stench suddenly overwhelmed him. He saw – but couldn't quite feel himself – moving towards the source of the stench, and then, a scream. He was running towards the smell now, a low grunt and shuffling footfalls getting louder and louder the further down the hallway he ran. He turned a corner suddenly, where at the end of the corridor stood a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin dull, grey and lumpy, a troll stood over a terrified Ron Weasley who had been backed into a corner beside the entrance to the Transfiguration classroom. The creature had a large, wooden club in one hand, and Ron screamed again as the troll raised its weapon, preparing to swing it downwards –

Draco gasped as he found himself back in the Entrance Hall. The crowds of students had died down, though there remained enough people around for the raven-haired boy to slip out of sight unnoticed.

"Malfoy!"

Draco blinked a few times, then turned in the direction of the voice. Blaise was hopping up the stairs which lead down to the dungeons two at a time looking extremely flustered.

"What the hell are you playing at?" he asked. He looked angry, though his voice wavered with worry. "We turned around and you weren't with us."

"The troll isn't in the dungeons," Draco said softly.

Blaise narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw – I know this is going to sound ridiculous but –," Draco blinked again. "– The troll's after Ron, we have to find him."

"Who gives a toss about Weasley?" Blaise yelled after him, but it was no use. Draco had already begun to take off towards the first-floor corridors and Blaise cursed under his breath. A moment later, he followed suit.

Two storeys above them, Harry frowned as he glanced over the banister at the lull in the pandemonium below and noticed the two boys slipping away from the rest of the Slytherins.

"Psst – Hermione," he whispered hurriedly. At her curious glance, he beckoned her towards the railing. "Look!"

The brunette was just in time to see Draco and Blaise disappear into the Transfiguration corridor and her eyes widened in alarm. "Are they _mad?_ There's a troll on the loose and Dumbledore _specifically_ said that we were to –"

But what they were supposed to do, Harry wasn't sure as Hermione's blood suddenly ran cold.

" _Ron_ ," she breathed. "How could I forget about him? He doesn't know about the troll –they've probably gone after him. Come on, we have to help them!"

Shooting a quick glance ahead to make sure Percy was nowhere in sight, she sped back down the flights of stairs they'd just climbed, Harry close behind her. Ducking their heads, they briefly joined the tail end of the Ravenclaw line going the other way before breaking away once they reached the landing to the first floor. They ran towards the end of the hallway and had just turned a corner when they ran straight into Draco and Blaise.

"Ow!" the blond boy hissed, rubbing his temple. His scowl instantly morphed into one of shock as he realised who the perpetrators were. "What are _you_ two doing here?"

"What do you mean what are _we_ doing here?" Hermione shot back, nursing her shoulder. "What are _you_ doing here? Last time I checked, the dungeons are _that_ way." She pointed back towards the flight of stairs leading down to the Entrance Hall. "And besides, we thought you were looking for Ron –"

The brunette was silenced as a foul smell suddenly overwhelmed them, the stench akin to the kind of public Muggle toilets that were never cleaned. The sound of slow, heavy footfalls followed soon after, followed by several grunts and a grating scraping sound as though something were being dragged along the stone floor.

"I think we've found the troll," Harry breathed.

The four friends seemed frozen in place, too scared to move for fear of alerting the creature to their presence, when they suddenly heard a loud smash and a piercing scream.

"It's Ron!" Hermione yelled, and before the others could stop her, she shot out from their hiding spot and ran towards the sound of the noise.

"Salazar, she's going to get herself killed," Blaise muttered, even as he, Draco and Harry immediately took off after her.

The four first-years sped down the corridor and past the girl's toilets, the stench only becoming more repulsive the further they went. Finally, they turned another corner and were met with a horrible sight – at the corridor's end stood the troll, its short legs as thick as tree trunks and arms shaped like boulders, which supported the weight of the massive wooden club it held in its hands. Even more terrifying was the sight of the stone wall at the end of the corridor which the troll had destroyed, bits of debris everywhere. The scene looked terrifyingly familiar to Draco who glanced around wildly, but Ron was nowhere in sight.

The troll still hadn't noticed them despite the racket they'd made on their way through the hallway's twists and turns, its focus instead on the door leading into the Transfiguration classroom.

"Maybe we could lock it in?" Harry whispered, not daring to blink as the troll before them waggled its long ears, seemingly trying to decide what to do next. "You know the locking charm, don't you Hermione?"

"Yes but –"

Suddenly, the troll let out an almighty roar as it smashed down the door to the Transfiguration classroom, taking a chunk of the stone archway with it. The four first-years screamed, but not as loudly as a fifth voice which came from inside the classroom.

" _Ron!_ " they all cried.

At once, they darted into the classroom where the red head was cowering behind a row of desks. With another great roar, the troll swung its club downwards, barely missing Ron as the desks were smashed into splinters.

"Confuse it!" Harry cried desperately.

Blaise glanced down to his right and picked up a chunk of rubble from the doorway.

"Oi, over here you great oaf!" he yelled, throwing it as hard as he could at the ground.

The troll stopped a few feet from Ron, who was now backed up against the far wall of the classroom. The troll hadn't heard the _clunk_ of the rubble against the floor, but it had certainly heard Blaise's voice. It turned and blinked stupidly, trying to figure what had made the noise, then noticed the Slytherin boy. It seemed to consider something for a moment before it made for him instead, its large club raised high in the air.

"Get it away from the door!" Draco yelled. Beside him, Hermione seemed frozen in place, her eyes wide as the troll gained ground on Blaise.

"Get away from him!" she suddenly shrieked before she could stop herself.

The troll halted again, this time glancing at Harry, Draco and Hermione who realised too late that they had cornered themselves. As the creature changed directions once more, Blaise desperately tried to get its attention by shouting at it, but to no avail. He dove for the group, grabbing hold of Hermione who was now shaking uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry," she choked out as the troll drew closer and closer, its club raised high in the air ready to strike.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

The quartet gasped as the troll's club was suddenly suspended high in mid-air. Behind it, Ron was narrowing his eyes at the creature defiantly, his wand raised. The troll turned and noticed him then and let out an almighty roar of anger, but before it could move, Ron let the spell go and the club fell onto its owner's head with a sickening _crack_. The troll swayed on the spot then fell flat on its face with a force that made the whole room tremble.

Harry, Hermione, Draco and Blaise, still huddled in the opposite corner of the room, were left stunned as the dust settled. It was Hermione who finally broke the silence.

"Is it … dead?"

"No," Ron said. He was crouching down next to the troll's giant head. "I think it's just been knocked out."

The sound of a door slamming and loud footsteps suddenly captured the attention of the five first-years as they heard voices gradually getting louder and louder. They hadn't realised what a racket they had made, but of course someone had to have heard the banging and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall came storming into the room closely followed by Professor's Snape and Flitwick.

While the Potion's master bent down to examine the troll, Professor McGonagall rounded on the five students, her expression livid. Hermione was almost as scared of her in that moment as she'd been a few minutes before – she'd never seen her Head of House look so angry.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" she hissed so quietly they strained to hear. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitories?"

Though Snape's eyes were narrowed, he seemed to be regarding the group with a hint of intrigue. Professor McGonagall's gaze darted from student to student expectantly.

"They were looking for me," Ron said suddenly, stepping forward.

"Mr. Weasley!"

"I – I wasn't feeling well and chose not to attend the Feast," he added quickly. "So I went for a wonder around the school instead. I didn't know about the troll – if they hadn't come looking for me," He glanced at Harry, Draco, Blaise and Hermione, "I'd be dead for sure."

In the corner of the room, the quartet looked stunned. Ron Weasley, defending them?

"Well, in that case …" Professor McGonagall glanced from the group then back to Ron. "Mr. Weasley, I'm very disappointed in you. Should you ever feel unwell again, I suggest paying a visit to Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing rather than roaming the corridors at night on your own." Her tone implied it wasn't a suggestion. "Tonight's events could have ended in tragedy were it not for your friends."

In the corner, Hermione averted her gaze in shame. Not only was Ron lying to stop them from getting into trouble, but they were being credited for saving his life when they were only alive because of him.

"Mr. Weasley, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this … serious lapse in judgement," Professor McGonagall continued. Ron could do little else than glance at the ground and she turned her attention to the quartet. "As for you four – five points to Gryffindor and Slytherin, each. I still say you were lucky, but to take on a full-grown mountain troll on your own … I shall be informing Professor Dumbledore of tonight's events. If you're not injured, you'd better head off to your dormitories – students are finishing the feast in their houses."

The group of first-years didn't need to be told twice. Blaise helped Hermione to her feet –whose legs still felt rather like jelly – and hurried out of the room followed by Harry, Ron and Draco. No one spoke until they were back in the Entrance Hall and well away from the stench of the troll and prying ears.

"I um …" It was Blaise who broke the silence quietly. He forced himself to look up at Ron. "Thank you – for what you did. You saved our lives."

Ron's cheeks went pink, not entirely sure what to say. "You saved mine, too. If you lot hadn't come looking for me I really _would_ be dead."

Hermione shook her head. "You were only there because of me – I'm sorry for what I said. It wasn't very nice, and I mean, I know what it's like to be on the other side."

"And I should've stood up for you," Draco said.

"Me too," Harry said quickly. "You were my first friend here, after all."

Ron's cheeks were completely flushed now, but he managed to find his voice. He looked at Hermione. "And I'm sorry for being a right git to you, really. I suppose I deserved it."

The brunette considered agreeing with him then thought better of it. It was much nicer like this, the five of them finally getting along.

"Well –" Blaise cleared his throat dramatically. "Now that we're all chums, can we please get out of here? I can still smell jacket potatoes from here and I'm starved."

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't help but laugh at the boy's bluntness. "Oh go on, then – we'll see you lot tomorrow."

As he followed Blaise down the stairs leading down to the dungeons however, Draco couldn't stop thinking about the strange vision he'd seen earlier that night. It had seemed so real, had indeed proven to have provided a warning which saved Ron's life, and yet he could think of nothing to explain it. He doubted it was a prophecy – he was proud of his family tree and had it memorised by heart. If there had been a notable seer in generations past, he'd know about it. But still …

The energy in the Slytherin common room was electric – especially as Blaise retold the tale of their adventure with the troll to their very anxious group of friends – only Draco couldn't quite bring himself to truly enjoy the evening. In the end, he'd claimed he was exhausted from the night's events and returned to the boy's dormitories where he eventually fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

 _Alternate chapter title: Or the one where a bunch of first-years bond over the fact that they were nearly killed by a fully grown mountain troll, as you do._


	6. The Secret Meeting

_A/N: Apologies for the wait yet again, I struggled quite a bit with this chapter. I rewrote it a couple of times and I'm still not totally happy with it, but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer. Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows and favourites. They keep me going!_

* * *

As November descended on Hogwarts, the weather started to become very cold. The mountains which surrounded the school gradually morphed into an icy grey, while the Great Lake resembled chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost, and Hagrid could regularly be seen defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch from the upstairs windows.

After his prophetic episode on Halloween night, Draco had eventually confided in Daphne –the sandy-haired girl had squeezed his hand and promised she'd look into every genealogical record she could find, just in case there was in fact a distant seer relative who even his parents weren't aware of.

With his fears dulled somewhat, Draco allowed himself to embrace the air of anticipation which had swept through the school. The Quidditch season had begun, and after weeks of training, the first match – Gryffindor versus Slytherin – was to be played on Saturday morning.

In the week leading up to the match, the school descended into controlled chaos as the Gryffindor and Slytherin students did their best to irritate the members of the opposite house. On Wednesday morning the Gryffindor students arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast only to find that their table and benches had been charmed green and silver. And if the Weasley twins looked a bit too happy with themselves after the passage to the dungeons was littered with Dungbombs later that afternoon, Professor McGonagall didn't say anything.

When Saturday morning finally arrived, the Great Hall was abuzz with excited chatter as students prepared banners and flags of red and green, some of which had been charmed to flash different messages and pictures. As each team's players entered the Hall they were met with a mix of cheers and boos as they took their seats, and with all the noise and excitement, it took a few moments before students noticed the sound of hoots and screeches which signaled the beginning of the daily mail run.

Harry, who by now was used to receiving no mail, hardly spared a glance at the owls above the Gryffindor table as they swooped into the room, dropping packages, letters and newspapers all around him. He was just beginning to read the back of the _Daily Prophet_ which Ron had unraveled across from him, when he was startled by a package which landed right on top of his cereal. Hedwig landed beside it a moment later and glanced at the plate of bacon in the middle of the table, cocking her head to the side expectantly.

"Oh go on, then," Harry grinned, scratching her neck softly. The snowy owl hooted happily and grabbed a piece of bacon between her beak, before soaring out of the Great Hall after the other owls to the sound of Harry's laughter. "Good to see you too, Hedwig."

His amusement was short lived however as he turned to the unexpected package in front of him. Harry noted to his surprise, that rather than spilling his cereal everywhere, the package was rather light and had landed quite softly instead of with the loud _smack_ most deliveries made. Attached to the package was a letter which he chose to rip open first, Hermione peering over his shoulder as he did so. It was a good thing he did, because it said:

 **DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.**

 **Your father left this in my possession before he died.**

 **It is time it was returned to you.**

 **Use it well.**

"' _Use it well'_?" Hermione frowned, as Harry passed the note across to Ron to look at. "What on earth is it?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said, grabbing the package and rising from his seat. He glanced across the room to the Slytherin table and caught Draco's eye, inclining his head towards the Entrance Hall. Draco gave a small nod in return and soon Harry, Ron and Hermione were joined by the blond alongside Theo and Blaise.

"What's this, then?" Theo asked as they gathered in a quiet corridor around the corner from the Entrance Hall.

Harry frowned. "I dunno, but it came with this."

He handed the note to Draco, who scanned his eyes over it quickly. "Well what are you waiting for? Go on then, open it!"

Harry obliged, and a moment later, something fluid and silvery grey went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds.

Ron gasped. "I've only heard stories about these … if that's what I think it is, they're really rare and _really_ valuable."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, as Harry bent down and picked up the shining cloth from the floor.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," Ron and Blaise said together. The two boys glanced at each other a moment before the red head continued. "I'm sure it is – try it on."

Harry obeyed and threw the Cloak around himself, which earned a series of gasps from his friends.

"It _is_!" Hermione gaped. "Look down!"

Sure enough, Harry could no longer see the rest of his body and he had to stop himself from going bug eyed. If Ron was right, and the Cloak really was valuable, then who had his father trusted enough to leave such an item with? And more importantly, why had they chosen to pass it onto him now?

"Can I try it on?" Draco asked excitedly, stirring Harry from his thoughts.

The raven-haired boy was saved from having to turn his friend down however, when a loud _bang!_ suddenly rang through the corridor. Harry quickly stashed the Cloak back in its packaging and the group of first-years ran back towards the Entrance Hall where they found the source of the noise – the Weasley twins had let off a series of Filibuster Fireworks as they'd left the Great Hall, their faces painted red and gold. This seemed to be the queue to start heading down to the Quidditch pitch, as hundreds of students began filing out after them moments later.

"You better go hide that thing, Harry," Hermione said as they joined the sea of students. "If Ron's right, that thing is _way_ too valuable to be carrying around at a Quidditch game."

Realising Hermione was right, Harry promised the group he'd see them at the match before darting between a group of fifth-year Hufflepuffs and racing up the series of staircases leading to Gryffindor Tower. Even with the Quidditch match just minutes away, he couldn't stop thinking about the message included with the Cloak. _Use it well_ , it had said. Use it well for _what?_

It was this question which consumed Harry still as he ran back down to the Entrance Hall, past the broom shed and across the lawn for flying lessons, where he finally caught back up with his group of friends. They'd been joined by the remainder of the first-year Slytherins as well as Seamus, Dean and Neville who wore matching red and gold badges which had been charmed to flash ' _Gryffindor for the House Cup!_ '. Harry noticed Vincent and Greg's scarves were also red and gold though the two boys hadn't seemed to have realised, and Harry couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped him as he was almost certain Hermione was the one responsible.

As they found their place in the stands, Harry found that not even the mystery of that morning's package was enough to steal him away from the electric air which radiated around the Quidditch pitch. His stomach leapt with excitement as Lee Jordan announced each team as they flew onto the pitch, and after a stern warning from Madam Hooch about a fair, clean game, the Quaffle was finally tossed into the air to the sound of the loudest cheers yet.

* * *

It was more than two hours later when Harry and his friends came trudging back into the castle, cheeks red and throats hoarse from shouting. The match had been brilliant – watching the Slytherin team practice was one thing, but seeing two teams pitted up against each other for real, especially two rival houses like Gryffindor and Slytherin, was something else. Harry had borrowed Theo's pair of binoculars for the majority of the match and watched in awe as the players ducked, dived and swerved gracefully around the pitch.

In the end however, it had been Slytherin coming away with the victory. The Gryffindor Seeker had been a rather small second-year boy Harry didn't know the name of, and what little advantage he had in size, Terence Higgs made up for in experience. The fourth-year boy had caught the snitch while Gryffindor only held a thirty-point lead, giving Slytherin a victory of two hundred and twenty points to one hundred.

Despite the loss, Harry couldn't stop beaming all afternoon – that is, until Draco brought up his Invisibility Cloak again at dinner that night. In all the excitement of Quidditch afterparties that had been held throughout the rest of the day, he'd completely forgotten about the package he'd received earlier that morning. While Harry pushed a sausage around his plate, Draco eagerly filled the rest of the group in on what had unfolded at breakfast.

"Well think about it, Harry," Hermione said between a spoonful of chicken soup. "It's a Cloak that makes you _invisible_. You can do anything, wonder anywhere, and no one would ever know."

"Hermione's got a point," Daphne added. "Maybe whoever sent it to you wants you to go somewhere you shouldn't?"

"But why?" Harry frowned. "The only places we aren't allowed to enter are the Forbidden Forest and the third-floor corridor, and I don't fancy a 'very painful death' from either, thanks."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Well there's the Restricted section of the library, too."

"'Mione," Blaise sighed. "You're the _only_ one who would use an Invisibility Cloak to go look at dusty old books. Well, you and Daphne both."

"I'd use it to peek in the boys' showers," Pansy said nonchalantly.

Millie catapulted a fork-full of mashed potatoes at the girl.

"Wait," Ron said suddenly. "I just remembered – Fred and George used to talk about secret passages and rooms they'd found hidden around the castle. Maybe whoever sent the Cloak wants you to find one of them, like maybe there's something important in one?"

Harry seemed to perk up at this. "Let's go ask them, then."

"Bad idea," the red head sighed. "They'd only tell you about something they probably found within a week of their first year. Better to go exploring on our own."

And so, they did.

It was almost midnight by the time Harry and Ron were satisfied that their roommates were fast asleep. Harry silently retrieved the Cloak from his trunk, and together, he and Ron crept down the staircase which lead to the Gryffindor common room. The only two people who remained awake were, ironically, Fred and George, who were lounging on one of the plush sofas by the fire. Luckily, the twins seemed to be engrossed in a game of Wizard's Chess and didn't notice as the portrait hole swung open by itself.

"Where to?" Harry asked once the portrait had closed behind them.

"Dunno," Ron whispered. He glanced at the stairs leading down to the Entrance Hall. "I thought I heard Fred say something about a secret passage on the first floor once, but I'm not sure."

Harry shrugged. "Good enough for me. Let's go."

Unfortunately, the two boys had been so focused on getting out of the Gryffindor common room unseen that they hadn't stopped to consider how difficult it would be for the two of them to use the Cloak at once. Harry and Ron struggled as they made their way down several moving staircases, and at one point, Ron tripped and almost knocked them both down an entire flight. Even worse than that, when they finally reached the first floor, the two boys had barely had a chance to wonder about the corridors before they'd rounded a corner right into the path of Mrs. Norris. Harry and Ron had panicked and high tailed it straight back to Gryffindor Tower, tripping over the bottom of the cloak as they went.

"She was staring straight at us, I swear it," Harry had complained at breakfast the next morning. Beside him, Ron was doing a very good job at pouting.

"I hate that bloody cat," he said bitterly.

* * *

For the next two weeks, the invisibility cloak remained hidden in Harry's trunk unused. After the first failed attempt at wondering about Hogwarts' corridors after curfew, the raven-haired boy had been bombarded with so much homework that he hadn't had the chance to try again.

"I can try searching, if you'd like," Draco said after Potions on Friday morning. The dungeons were colder than ever as the middle of November passed, and the blond boy had his green and silver scarf looped several times around his neck, seemingly trying to disappear into it.

"Oh sod off, Malfoy," Blaise grinned. "We all know you just want to use that thing so you can go flying after curfew."

Harry snorted. "Actually?"

"Well … the thought may have crossed my mind …" Draco trailed off sheepishly.

It was another five minutes before the group of Slytherins and Gryffindors surfaced in the Entrance Hall, legs aching. Pansy and Daphne had filled the silence by discussing the validity of an article on dress robes published in that week's _Witch Weekly_ , though stopped the moment the smell of warm soup reached them. It seemed the rest of the group silently agreed that lunch in the Great Hall sounded like a great idea and were almost at the Hall's large doorway, when the sound of a new voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Hey – Potter! Harry!"

The boy in question turned to find Ernie MacMillan jogging to catch up with the group. His cheeks were red, likely due to the cold, and Harry suspected the boy had just come from Flying class.

"I'm meant to give you this," Ernie said by way of greeting. He thrust a screwed up piece of parchment into Harry's hand. "It's a note from McGonagall apparently, I was told to pass it on."

And with that, the boy was gone.

"What does it say?" Seamus piped up.

Harry unraveled the parchment and read the note. It mustn't have been very long, because his expression changed very quickly. "She … wants to see me in her office," he said softly. "… it's about my last Transfiguration essay … eight o'clock tonight …"

He continued to stare numbly at the note, as though reading it over and over again would change its contents. Beside him, Hermione looked extremely offended.

"I personally _checked_ that essay!" she said furiously. "No, scratch that, I _wrote_ half of it." The brunette suddenly paled as a thought occurred to her. "Oh God, Harry – you don't think she knows, do you? I _knew_ I should've changed the word 'necessity', it was too obvious wasn't it? Oh no, I'm going to get into trouble and this is all my f –"

"Relax, 'Mione," Blaise cut in. "She didn't mention anything about seeing you in the letter, did she?"

"Well I mean, I suppose not …"

Hermione seemed to cheer up very quickly over lunch, Professor McGonagall's note forgotten in favour of steaming chicken soup and the company of her friends. Three seats down however, Harry was looking particularly pale. The raven-haired boy could bring himself to do little else than aimlessly push his spoon around the thick liquid in his bowl, not able to stop himself from thinking about what could've possibly been so horrible about his Transfiguration essay that Professor McGonagall personally wanted to see him after hours. He didn't even notice as Daphne made Neville's croutons dance with some clever wand work, but glanced up as he felt someone nudge his foot.

Across from him, Ron was frowning. "You haven't touched your soup."

"Not hungry."

Ron sighed. "I'm sure it's fine – really," he added as Harry gave him a doubtful look. "Maybe you just did really well?"

Harry gave him an even more skeptical look. Beside him, Draco nudged his shoulder.

"Ron's right," the blond said. "If McGonagall thought you weren't doing your own work she would've already dragged you up to her office by the ear. Hermione, too." He glanced at the girl in question, who finally seemed to have noticed Harry's glum mood. "Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as you're imagining."

Harry began running his spoon through his soup again, though quickly realised they were right. Professor McGonagall wasn't the sort of witch to dance around unpleasant conversations – if she wasn't happy, she would be quick to say so. Whatever she wished to discuss that night, perhaps it wasn't so bad after all.

"Thank you – both of you," Harry said finally. With a ghost of a smile on his face, he began to eat his soup.

The rest of the afternoon seemed to drag on forever. The Gryffindors had double History of Magic with the Ravenclaw first-years, of which even the most studious couldn't seem to keep their eyes open. Even Hermione, who normally quite liked the subject, seemed to have given up taking notes after the first hour and struggled to pay attention as Professor Binns droned on about the Gargoyle Strike of 1911.

Harry had decided to count the number of stone bricks which lined the classroom's walls in an attempt to stay awake, and was on his twenty-third row when the bell finally chimed signaling the end of the school day. Not bothering to wait for a dismissal, he alongside the rest of his classmates practically bolted for the corridors.

"Honestly, that class is a nightmare," Ron groaned as he caught up with Harry and Hermione a minute later. "I don't think I've learned a single thing all year."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I don't like to speak ill of Professor Dumbledore but … I mean I _have_ wondered why Professor Binns hasn't been replaced with someone a little more …"

"Interesting?" Harry offered.

"Alive, more like," Ron scoffed.

"Ronald!" the brunette chided, even as she couldn't help the huff of laughter which escaped her.

The remainder of the evening seemed to pass by far more quickly than their afternoon class had. The trio had been joined by Neville, Dean and Seamus in the Gryffindor common room where they'd worked on their homework in companionable silence, before making their way down to the Great Hall for dinner. Harry, Ron and Hermione made a beeline for the Slytherin table as soon as they arrived, and had barely sat down before the group of snakes began telling them about the events of their Defence Against the Dark Arts class earlier that afternoon. According to Draco, he'd used a devious charm Professor Snape had mentioned in passing to conjure a snake and all hell had broken loose.

"You should've seen Quirrell's _face_ ," Daphne wheezed. "He practically jumped onto Hannah's desk –"

"– and started throwing cloves of garlic at it," Pansy finished, collapsing onto the girl's shoulder in a fit of giggles.

That mental image was ridiculous enough to make the Gryffindor trio burst into laughter, even as Hermione glanced back at the staff table and noticed that the Professor in question was missing.

"Wait, so who got rid of the thing then?" she asked after calming down somewhat.

"Professor Flitwick," Blaise replied, seemingly put out. "Happened to be passing by and must've heard Quirrell screaming."

"It was fun while it lasted, though," Greg added before taking a bite out of a chicken wing.

Harry, Ron and Hermione took this as an indicator to fill up their own plates with food, and soon enough the group of first-years were plotting new ways to terrorise Professor Quirrell over sausages and steak. Tracey proposed hiding a jar full of spiders in his desk drawer, while Ron suggested they charm the turban right off of Quirrell's head just to see if he actually had any hair.

The group were so engrossed in their plotting that they hardly realised the time, and before they knew it, the grandfather clock behind the staff table was chiming seven o' clock. They remained at the table for some time after, only deciding to head back to their common rooms when Hermione reminded Harry about his meeting with Professor McGonagall. The raven-haired boy had somehow forgotten all about the note he'd received at lunchtime and looked quite pale as the group gathered in the Entrance Hall.

"It'll be fine, Harry," Draco said. "Besides, if McGonagall gives you any trouble I'll write my fa –." He cleared his throat. "Well, there won't be any. Just remember what me and Ron said at lunch."

Harry could do little more than nod at the blond boy as the Slytherin first-years began their descent down to the dungeons for the evening. Deciding it was far better to arrive for the meeting earlier than late, and not quite wanting to talk about it any further with either Hermione or Ron, Harry began to make his way straight to Professor McGonagall's office. He'd taken no more than three steps however when Hermione's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Wait – Harry!" she said. The brunette quickly closed the gap between them and leaned in conspiratorially. "Take the Cloak with you – just in case." She added as Harry gave her a quizzical look. "You know what happened with me and Draco and you don't know how long this meeting will take. Better to have it with you in case you need it to get back."

Harry's face instantly morphed from pale to sickly. Despite his fears throughout the afternoon, he'd thought whatever McGonagall had to say to him would only take a short while. He hadn't even considered that it could be something so bad that he'd be there until curfew.

"Oh Harry, _please_ don't be scared – I didn't mean …" Hermione trailed off. Not sure what to say to undo what she'd just said, she decided to hug him instead. Harry was startled a moment before he wrapped his arms around her in return. "You know I worry, just – take the Cloak with you okay?"

Harry nodded into her shoulder in response before reluctantly letting go, and the two alongside Ron made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. By the time they returned it was ten minutes to eight, and Harry darted up to the boys' dormitory to fish the Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk. With time for nothing more than a quick 'good luck' from Ron and Hermione, Harry made his way back down to the first-floor corridor where Professor McGonagall's office sat, just in time to hear the Clock Tower faintly chime eight o'clock.

Harry walked towards the door and knocked twice. When he didn't hear any movement inside however, he frowned.

"Professor?" he called out hesitantly.

Still nothing. He glanced down then and noticed that there was no light slipping through the crack between the bottom of the door and the floor. That was strange – in the few months he'd known her, Harry had never known his Head of House to be late for anything. Then again, she was human after all, and it was quite possible she'd been held up somewhere. With that thought in mind, Harry took a seat on the cold, stone ground by the office door and began to wait.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes later, Harry first grew worried then impatient as the first-floor corridor remained completely empty. It didn't help that the chilly night air was seeping through the crack under the office door, and Harry could think of nothing he'd rather be doing more than playing Exploding Snap with Ron and Hermione in front of the crackling log fire in Gryffindor Tower. He'd even reread Professor McGonagall's note several times over to make sure he wasn't mistaken, but it was no use.

It was only as he heard the soft chime of the Clock Tower signaling half past eight that Harry began to consider if the note hadn't been from Professor McGonagall at all, but was instead a ruse to waste his time. The more he thought about it however, the more the idea didn't make any sense. Ernie MacMillan was many things though he certainly wasn't cunning, and in any case, Harry had no issue with the other boy and couldn't think of a single reason why he'd be the target of such a trick.

That left an error on Professor McGonagall's part, something which Harry still couldn't fathom. The Deputy Headmistress was strict and firm and true to her word, and if she said she wanted to meet at a certain time then she would be there. Except she wasn't.

Harry huffed and fumbled with his Invisibility Cloak as another ten minutes passed. He was suddenly very grateful that Hermione had asked him to take it with him, for without it he'd surely be caught out after curfew. Even if Professor McGonagall chose to show up now, there was no way he'd make it back to Gryffindor Tower in time.

It was another five minutes later when Harry suddenly got an idea. Cold, tired, and desperate to return to the warmth of his common room, he decided to venture to the staffroom and seek Professor McGonagall out himself. At the very least she'd know that he'd been at her office at the time requested, and perhaps, if he was lucky, she'd end up feeling so horrible for making him wait so long that she'd tell him to forget about whatever she'd wanted to discuss altogether.

Reenergised by this thought, Harry quickly made his way down to the ground floor and around a corner off the Entrance Hall, where two large stone gargoyles sat guarding the staffroom door. He was about to knock when they suddenly sprang to life, and Harry couldn't help the terrified scream that escaped his lips.

"Shouldn't you be in bed, firstie?" the one on the left piped up.

"Don't _warn_ him," the right gargoyle scoffed. "Let him get into trouble, it'll be the most entertaining thing I've seen all year."

"Too right."

Harry remained rooted on the spot, not sure what to say, so he was relieved when the staffroom door opened from the inside a moment later. This relief was short lived however, when he realised that the person responsible was Professor Snape. Though Harry quite enjoyed Potions class and had proved himself capable on a number of occasions now, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that the Potions Master barely tolerated his presence. The Professor's long, black hair was as greasy as ever as he stared down at Harry, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Potter," Snape drawled. "What are you doing here so late?"

Harry mustered up all the courage he could before opening his mouth. "I'm sorry sir – I was looking for Professor McGonagall. I was supposed to meet her at eight o' clock you see, but she never turned up –"

"The Deputy Headmistress retired for the night some time ago," Snape said smoothly. "So I suggest –"

" _What?_ That's impossible," Harry said quickly. He could hardly believe she had been late for the meeting at all, let alone forgotten about it so completely she'd gone straight to bed after dinner. "Here, she gave me a note, it says so right …"

Interrupting Professor Snape, Harry realised too late, was a horrible idea. The Potion Master's dark eyes narrowed above his long, hooked nose, as though he were considering the most painful way possible to punish the boy in front of him for daring to do so.

"I suggest, Mr. Potter, that you return to your dormitory," Snape said finally, so quietly it was almost a whisper. His gaze fell on the Invisibility Cloak in Harry's arms for a moment, which the raven-haired boy quickly tried to hide. "Before you get _caught_."

Harry knew a dismissal when he heard one and was more than happy to oblige. Turning on his heels, he began to dart back towards the Entrance Hall when he heard Professor Snape call his name once more. Harry turned, and was surprised to see the Potion Master's expression no longer looked dangerous.

"A well-known secret, if I may," Snape said softly. "There is a corridor off the Entrance Hall, marked by a suit of armour. I believe you'll find that the tapestry it contains conceals a hidden passage to the second-floor. Given that it is currently two minutes to curfew, I suggest you … hurry along to your dormitory. Wouldn't want a detention now, would we, Mr. Potter?"

For a few moments, Harry struggled to do little else than stare wide-eyed at his Potions teacher. Not only had he chosen not to punish him for his cheek, but had instead pointed out a shortcut to Gryffindor Tower. He was trying to _help_.

"One minute to curfew," Snape drawled, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

At once, the raven-haired boy turned his attention back to the man in front of him. "O-Of course," he stammered, beginning to back away from the staffroom door. "Thank you, sir."

With that, Harry took off back towards the Entrance Hall.

It took a minute to locate the corridor Professor Snape had mentioned. Without the suit of armour to guide him, he never would have noticed the entrance to the narrow walkway which snaked off to the left of the Entrance Chamber. He was just about to enter when the loud, booming bell signaling the beginning of curfew rang throughout the castle, and at once, Harry donned his Invisibility Cloak.

Although the corridor itself wasn't long, Harry's progress was slow as he strained his ears for any sign of Filch while trying not to trip over the bottom of the Cloak. It didn't help that the corridor's only source of light was intermittent torches hanging from the walls which made it quite hard to see. Eventually, he came across a large tapestry which draped from the ceiling to the floor.

Harry poked his arms out of the Cloak, one to pull the tapestry back while he cast a quick _lumos_ with the other. Sure enough, just as Professor Snape had said, a winding staircase sat behind it which snaked steeply upwards. Taking care not to tread on the Invisibility Cloak, Harry tentatively took the first few steps up the stairwell, letting the light from his wand guide him.

By the time he reached the landing, Harry was quite out of breath. He'd almost tripped over a trick step half way up the stairwell, and it was only once he'd emerged from the behind the tapestry on the second-floor that he realised he was in an unfamiliar part of the castle. With how confident he had become at navigating his way to the classes he was required to attend, it was easy to forget that Hogwarts' twists and turns were far more vast than he realised. Even the second-floor, which he often found himself on, contained corridors and hallways he'd never ventured to before, including where he currently stood, it seemed.

Harry glanced up and down the corridor wildly, panic beginning to set in. He was beginning to wish he'd taken the usual path back to Gryffindor Tower, the longer trek be damned, and was just about to ask a rather pompous looking man in an oil painting for directions when he suddenly heard footsteps echoing from behind a doorway to his right. The Invisibility Cloak concealed him physically but it didn't make him intangible, and the corridor was quite narrow. Any moment now whoever it was was going to open the door and barrel right into him.

Taking off in the opposite direction, Harry darted past several more oil paintings and a rusting suit of armour before rounding the corner into a wide hallway. Unlike the corridor he'd just emerged from, this particular hallway featured several large glass windows, of which the evening's moonlight shone through brightly. Harry wasn't focused on that, however. Instead, his gaze remained transfixed on the opposite end of the hallway, where a large, winged stone gargoyle sat in a circular alcove.

Even more surprising than the gargoyle's size, was that it began to move. Stunned, Harry watched from beneath the Invisibility Cloak as it slowly rose, revealing a stone stairwell in its wake. No sooner had the gargoyle disappeared into the floors above when it began its descent, this time accompanied by a pair of feet. Harry's eyes widened as first the robes, then long white beard and half-moon spectacles of none other than Professor Dumbledore came into view. The Headmaster seemed unperturbed as he waited for the stairwell to reach the ground, before stepping out into the moon-lit hallway.

A few feet away, Harry hardly dared to breathe. He watched as, instead of journeying towards some distant part of the castle, Dumbledore stood and waited. For what, Harry wasn't sure, until he heard the sound of faint footsteps behind him. As they gradually drew nearer, he risked turning his head and was surprised to see not a Professor or Prefect, but a young boy about his age.

Like Harry, he had dark, somewhat unruly hair, though he noted the other boy looked quite sullen as he shuffled towards Dumbledore. The older wizard's expression was unreadable behind his half-moon spectacles and Harry wondered for a moment if, like him, the other boy was in trouble but had been sent directly to Dumbledore instead.

Suddenly, the Headmaster smiled. "Is it safe?"

The boy looked somewhat irritable as the older wizard peered down at him expectantly. "Do you doubt my abilities, Headmaster?"

"I would trust no one else to do what I have asked of you," Dumbledore replied warmly. "However, given how important this is, I must be sure. I am sorry."

Under his Invisibility Cloak a few feet away, Harry hardly dared to breathe. Too much had already happened for one evening, and now, it seemed he had stumbled upon a conversation he most certainly wasn't supposed to hear. Why would Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in Britain, entrust any task, let alone an important one, to a boy who could be no older than a second-year? What was it that was safe? What was going on?

The boy in question seemed slightly less put-out, and instead attempted to flatten his hair. "He made an attempt earlier tonight, but was unsuccessful."

"Good."

"No," the boy scowled. "Why not just destroy the wretched thing? Flamel's lived long enough. Or better yet, kill the fool and end this now."

Harry only just stopped himself from audibly gasping, and instead, his lips remained frozen in the shape of a small 'o'. Who was Flamel? Why did this boy want to kill him?

Dumbledore shook his head, seemingly not bothered by the drastic suggestion. "You know as well as I do that it would do no good. The prophecy is clear – only the boy can vanquish Voldemort."

"No!" the boy said again, this time more forcefully. "The prophecy was so and will come to pass yet again should you continue to interfere, just as you wish for him to find the stone you so haplessly guard."

Rather than chide the boy for his tone, Dumbledore smiled yet again. "Forgive an old man for his curiosity. Yes, I have wondered whether or not he and his friends will seek to solve that mystery once more."

" _Wondered?_ " the boy hissed. Despite his age, his expression was dangerous and Harry found himself backing away from the two figures slightly. "Need I remind you that the Dark Lord himself has made repeated attempts to do the same? I cannot stop him from making an attempt much longer and once he's successful your meagre defenses will be little more than a minor inconvenience. I implore you to move the mirror."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Not until the Potter boy discovers it."

This time, Harry couldn't stop the gasp which escaped him and almost tripped over the back of his Invisibility Cloak. Thankfully, the noise was largely covered up by the sound of the other boy's huff of frustration and went unnoticed.

"Then you're a fool," the boy snapped. "He doesn't even know the stone _exists_."

For the first time, the Headmaster frowned. "The timeline has changed that much?"

"Enough that I'm in unfamiliar territory."

"I see," Dumbledore said. His gaze drifted to the floor, seemingly deep in thought, before peering back up at the boy through his half-moon spectacles. "Regardless of what challenges Harry faces this year, there will be tougher still yet to come. He will need the help of friends both old and new. Ones he must trust implicitly. I know it is much to ask, but please, ensure he attempts to seek out the stone." The Headmaster pulled out a small, golden pocket watch and glanced at the time. "We must part ways here – Argus will pass through any minute now on his rounds. Will you do as I ask?"

The anger was gone from the boy's face, and instead replaced with a look of resignation. "I will see to it."

"Thank you," Dumbledore said. The soft smile returned to his face as he stepped into the circular alcove where the moving stairwell sat. "I bid you goodnight."

The boy watched as the staircase disappeared along with the Headmaster, and after a few moments, the hallway was finally silent once more.

" _Homenum Revelio_ ," he muttered. To his right, he watched with amusement as a soft aura-like marker fled towards the end of the adjoining hallway before disappearing around a corner.

* * *

Harry blindly raced through the corridors on the second-floor, his Invisibility Cloak clutched tightly in his hands as he went. He no longer cared about staying hidden, only that he got back to Gryffindor Tower as quickly as he could. As he ran, his mind raced as it replayed flashes of the conversation he'd just heard – something about a stone, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named … Dumbledore had mentioned _him_. It was all too much.

After dashing through two more hallways he didn't recognise, Harry passed by Professor Quirrell's office and quickly found himself on the Grand Staircase landing. He took the steps up to the seventh-floor two at a time and ran through the corridors with the oil paintings and the marble busts until finally, completely out of breath, he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Good heavens, where have you been?" she asked.

"Bowtruckle Bogies," Harry snapped.

" _Well_ ," the Fat Lady huffed, even as she swung forward to let him inside.

It was well after nine o'clock as Harry stepped into the warmth of the Gryffindor common room, and it seemed that many of the students who had been milling about before he'd left had returned to their dormitories for the night. A few third-years glanced his way as the portrait swung shut behind him, though it was the sound of Hermione's voice which gained his attention.

"Harry!" she cried, hurrying towards him. She gave him a tight hug which he struggled to return, before dragging him towards a far corner of the room where Ron, Seamus and Dean had glanced up from a game of Exploding Snap. "We were worried sick!"

"Yeah mate, you've been gone for hours," Ron said, getting to his feet. "What happened?"

Harry took another moment to catch his breath before glancing at his two friends.

"Not here," he said quietly. "Upstairs … you're not going to believe what I just heard."

* * *

 _Alternate chapter title: Or the one where some seriously shady shit is going on at Hogwarts._


	7. The Game is Afoot

_A/N: I had so much fun writing this chapter! I'm super curious to hear where you all think this is going by the end of it. As always, thank you so much for your continued support – reviews, follows and favourites make me a very happy author :')_

* * *

That night, Harry couldn't sleep. For hours he'd tossed and turned, pulled his blanket up and pushed it off, but it was no use. All he could think about was the conversation he'd overheard between Dumbledore and the mysterious raven-haired boy, and what it could possibly mean.

He was grateful, in the very least, that he wasn't alone in his predicament. Ron and Hermione had dragged him up to the first-year boys' dormitories where he'd told them everything that had happened to him in the few hours he'd been gone. The meeting with Professor McGonagall that she'd never shown up to, the secret passageway leading up to the second floor and, most importantly, the conversation he'd overheard. The three friends pondered and fretted over what to do until Seamus, Dean and Neville returned for the night. Hermione had reluctantly left for her own dormitory, only after promising they'd continue the conversation first thing in the morning.

In the bed beside him, Ron didn't seem to be having much luck getting to sleep either. Although the curtains on his four-poster bed were drawn, Harry could hear the redhead moving about almost as much as he was. When he eventually heard a muffled ' _bloody hell_ ', he decided to speak up.

"Ron?"

A pause. "Yeah?"

"Can't sleep?"

"No."

"Want to go downstairs?"

Another pause. "Okay."

At once, the two boys put on their slippers and robes and tip toed out of their dormitory. As they neared the bottom of the spiral staircase, they noticed the amber light of the common room fire flickering against the stairwell, and were surprised to see a figure sitting on one of the plush sofas in front of the heat. The room was dark, save for the light from the fire, and it wasn't until they neared the occupant of the sofa that they recognised Hermione's wild, unkept curls. She seemed to hear them then and turned around abruptly.

"Oh, it's you," she mumbled softly. She moved over slightly to give the two boys room beside her. "Couldn't sleep?"

Harry shook his head as he settled down next to her. "Couldn't stop thinking about earlier."

"Neither," Ron shrugged.

"That makes three of us," she said, even as she yawned. "I just … the thought of You-Know-Who still lurking about somewhere … I mean, I've only read about the sort of things he did and I'm terrified of him. But you Ron, you've known about him your entire life, and Harry – well I mean … but I thought he was dead. And to know that he's not, and that Dumbledore of all people isn't doing anything about it …"

Ron stared blankly at the flames which lapped at the firewood. "It has to be a mistake – not that I don't believe you Harry – but I mean, it's just … _Dumbledore_. He _led_ the fight against You-Know-Who. If he knows he's still around, maybe he has a good reason for not acting on it, you know?"

"Voldemort killed my parents," Harry said. He leaned down slightly and rested his head against Hermione's shoulder. "If it were you, if you knew that Dumbledore knew he was still alive and just let him roam around, even if he had a good reason … wouldn't you want to know why?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered.

Ron let his head rest against the back of the sofa. "It'll be alright. Doesn't matter what happens, with You-Know-Who or anything else you heard them say, Harry. We'll stick by you."

"And so will the others," Hermione added. "You're not alone in this."

Harry couldn't help the way his lips morphed into a small, content smile, and finally, he alongside his two friends fell fast asleep.

* * *

Despite how exhausted they were as daylight approached a few hours later, the trio found themselves dressed and itching to leave the common room before curfew had even lifted. The moment seven o'clock arrived, Harry, Ron and Hermione practically dove through the portrait hole and began their trek towards the Grand Staircase.

"First thing's first," Hermione said. "We tell the others what you told us, Harry. Then we figure out what to do."

"Right," Harry said.

"And if they don't know what to do either?" Ron asked.

Hermione sighed. "Then for once, I don't know."

The trio didn't see anyone on their way down to the Entrance Hall save for a third-year Ravenclaw girl, and before long they had begun their descent down to the dungeons. It wasn't until they were nearing the fork in the corridors which separated the Potions classrooms from the Slytherin common room that it occurred to them that they had no way of letting Draco or any of the other Slytherins know that they were wanted outside. Then suddenly, as though right on cue, they rounded a corner and ran straight into Marcus Flint.

"Marcus!" Hermione said, perhaps a bit too loudly. The fifth-year boy looked as though he were still half asleep despite being dressed in his Quidditch gear, and jumped slightly upon hearing his name.

"Oh – it's you, Granger," he mumbled. "Keep it down, will you? I've got a headache the size of Gringotts."

Hermione's cheeks went beet red. "Sorry! I mean – sorry. It's just that I was excited to see you, is all – I mean, we were excited to see you. Or glad, really, mostly because it's quite fortunate that we ran into you given how early it is, and you know how it is on a Saturday, no one's up 'til ten o'clock at _least_ –"

" _Granger_ ," Marcus sighed. "What did you want, exactly?"

"Oh, right – yes," she said, wringing her hands together. "We really need to talk to Draco and seeing as we can't get into your common room we were kind of hoping … you'd go get him for us?"

The fifth-year boy arched an eyebrow. "And what's in it for me, exactly?"

"My eternal gratitude?" Hermione said hopefully, flashing an innocent smile.

Marcus rolled his eyes, though he was grinning now. "You're lucky I like you. Gimme a minute, or three, you know how Malfoy is in the mornings."

And with that, he was gone.

It was at least ten minutes later before Marcus reemerged with a very disgruntled looking Draco. The boy's normally immaculately gelled hair was stuck up in all directions and he was still dressed in a very expensive-looking pair of deep green silk pyjamas.

"Here you are – one Malfoy, as ordered," Marcus declared, looking thoroughly amused.

"Salazar get _out_ of here," Draco snapped, even as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He watched as the Prefect disappeared around the corner before turning to his three friends. "This had better be important."

Hermione, who was struggling not to laugh at how ridiculous his hair looked, suddenly sobered up. "It is – very."

At once, Harry briefly filled Draco in on the events of the night before. The blond's expression slowly morphed from irritated to dangerous as the raven-haired boy recounted the conversation he'd overheard, and by the time he was finished, Draco's expression was almost unreadable save for the way his lips were thinned.

"There's an unused Potions classroom, two doors down from the one we normally use," he said. "I'll get the others – we'll meet you there in fifteen minutes."

The Gryffindor trio had no trouble finding the abandoned classroom in question. Like their usual Potions room, rows of shelves lined most of the walls, though lacked the jars of pickled animals that they'd grown accustomed to seeing. A number of desks and chairs had been pushed up against the far wall while a pile of school issued cauldrons sat in another corner collecting dust.

The three first-years shivered for some time in the cool dungeon air, until at last, Draco entered the room followed by the rest of their friends. The first-year Slytherins looked varying degrees of disheveled, but otherwise serious as they gathered in a huddle.

"Malfoy told us what happened last night," Theo said, breaking the silence. "What did Dumbledore say exactly, Harry?"

The boy in question glanced about the room at his friends, the scene reminiscent of the first time he'd met them before the Sorting Feast. Only now, instead of the curious looks he'd received a few months beforehand, the group in front of him looked ready help him in any way they could.

"It's a bit hard to remember absolutely everything," Harry began. "I mean, I was so worried about getting caught. But I do remember Dumbledore talking about a stone or something. He kept asking if it was safe because Voldemort was trying to find it."

The group collectively gasped.

" _What?_ " Tracey exclaimed. "But he's … he's dead, isn't he?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so, not after the way they talked about him."

Blaise frowned. "Who was Dumbledore talking to?"

"I don't know," Harry said, mirroring the other boy's expression. "It was a boy, maybe about our age? I didn't recognise him, I figured he was some second-year I'd never seen before. He had dark hair, looked kind of moody. It sounded like Dumbledore was getting him to keep that stone safe."

"I don't get what's so special about a stone, anyway," Vincent said.

"If there's one thing I've learned about the Wizarding World it's that looks can be deceiving, Vince," Hermione said. "As wizards and witches we're not restricted in strength based on our gender or size but by how much power we have and how we wield it. Something as seemingly insignificant as a stone could hold immense power. Surely it must have if You-Know-Who is after it."

"But why choose a boy to guard something so important?" Daphne asked. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Unless you want to fail," Pansy said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What are you getting at?"

"Think about it," Pansy began. "Harry said that Dumbledore wants to keep this stone, or whatever it is, safe from the Dark Lord. So what do you do when you want to keep something safe? You hide it. You lock it up and throw away the key. You bury it, you make sure that absolutely no one can find it. Only from what Harry's said, the Dark Lord not only knows where this stone is, but has already made attempts to take it."

"You mean … you think Dumbledore _wants_ You-Know-Who to find it?" Hermione gasped.

Pansy shrugged. "All I'm saying is that I find it strange that the most powerful wizard in Britain would rely so heavily on someone who probably hasn't even learned how to cast the wand-lighting charm yet."

"But it's – it's _Dumbledore!_ " Ron said.

"Oh for heaven's sake Ronald, we've been through this," Hermione sighed. "As much as I hate to agree, Pansy has a point. Perhaps he's not all we thought he was."

" _Or_ ," Ron huffed, "this stone, or whatever it is, is exactly that – just a stone. Maybe Dumbledore _knew_ that You-Know-Who was after it and hid the real one somewhere else, and the one they were talking is about it just a bluff or a decoy or something."

Hermione bit her lip. "I suppose that's possible too …"

"This would make a lot more sense if we knew what the stone does," Daphne said. "Or where it is. Was there anything else they mentioned, Harry? Names or places maybe?"

Harry appeared to be deep in thought for a moment, then suddenly, his eyes lit up. "Yes! I'd almost forgotten – the boy mentioned someone called Flamel, though I've no idea who that might be."

Harry glanced at his friends, though from the blank looks on their faces, it seemed no one else had heard of Flamel either.

"So there's a stone," Pansy said, beginning to pace, "and the Dark Lord is after it – only we have no idea where it is or what it does." She reached the front of the room where the lecturer's podium and lectern stood and turned around. "We know that Dumbledore is aware of this, yet isn't doing much to try and stop him," She turned back towards the podium. "For whatever reason he's put the safety of this stone in the hands of a twelve year old boy, guaranteeing that it'll be taken at some point," Back towards the group. "And someone called Flamel is involved, though we know even less about them than we do about the stone."

Daphne watched as her friend reached the podium once more, though this time, climbed the single step up to meet it. "So what do we do?"

"We find the stone and destroy it," Draco said at once, speaking up for the first time since the group had gathered in the abandoned classroom. His response received several alarmed glances, though he pressed on. "Maybe Ron's right and the real one is hidden somewhere else. But I've heard stories about the Dark Lord and what he was like before you made him disappear, Harry. He's not the forgiving sort, not even towards his own followers. If he ever found you …"

Theo sighed. "Malfoy's right – we can't take that chance."

"Whatever we need to do to protect Harry, I'll do it," Hermione said, determined. "Only we hardly know anything about the stone – where do we start?"

"I bet he'd know what to do," Pansy said. The group collectively glanced over at the Slytherin girl, who had picked up a yellowed copy of the _Daily Prophet_ which had been lying on the lecturer's lectern. On the front page, a large moving photograph of Gilderoy Lockhart was smiling back at them under the headline ' _Lockhart Publishes New Book: 'Year with the Yeti''_.

Harry wasn't sure who the man on the front page was, though thought he looked a bit dimwitted as he shook hands with a rather smitten-looking middle aged woman. It was odd, he thought suddenly, but for being so mesmerised by the wizarding world, he'd hardly read any magic-related news since finding out he was a wizard. The only times he could really recall were the odd occasion when he'd borrowed Ron's copy, or the article in Hagrid's hut –

" _Hagrid!_ " Harry suddenly exclaimed. "How could I forget? Draco, remember that news clipping we saw when we visited him a few months ago, the one about the Gringotts break-in?"

The blond boy frowned. "Of course – what about it?"

"I'd completely forgotten, what with everything that's happened in the past few months," Harry said. "But when we asked him about it, he seemed to go quiet, like he knew something. And – get this – my vault wasn't the only one we opened that day. Ron, you said that whoever it was tried to rob a high security vault, right?"

The redhead looked at his friend quizzically. "Yeah?"

" _We_ opened a high security vault that day," Harry said, getting more excited by the minute. "Hagrid said it was secret business for Dumbledore, only there was hardly anything in the vault at all, just some tiny package wrapped in brown paper. I've always wondered why something so small needed to be kept in a vault like that …"

"And let me guess," Blaise said, grinning conspiratorially. "The package was the size of a stone."

" _Exactly_ ," Harry said. "I bet you anything the stone was in that package and that Hagrid knows what it's for."

"And where it's hiding," Hermione agreed. "But what good is that? We can't just ask him – he's hardly going to tell us."

"No …" Draco said, a malicious smirk on his face. "That's exactly what we're going to do."

"What, ask him?" Ron said. "You heard what Hermione said, he's not going to tell us anything."

Draco looked positively gleeful. "Oh, he will – if he thinks we already know all about it."

* * *

As soon as breakfast finished a few hours later, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco made their way outside and began the trek down to Hagrid's hut. The morning air was bitterly cold, and the quartet did their best not to slip on the frost covered grounds as they neared the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Just like their previous visit, Harry's knock on the door sent Fang into a barking frenzy, and they could hear the half giant struggle to calm the dog down before the door finally opened.

"Ah, it's you lot," he beamed, even as Fang barreled into the back of his legs. "Come in, come in …"

The four first-years made their way inside the single-room hut and clambered up onto the large sofa which sat across from Hagrid's chair and the roaring fireplace. Fang quickly joined them, settling down next to Hermione who was more than happy to cuddle up next to him.

"What can I do for yeh?" Hagrid asked, setting down four large mugs and pouring them some tea. "Not that I ain't happy to see yeh, mind, just surprised to see yeh up so early for a Sa'urday tha's all."

"We haven't seen you in a while and thought we'd come say hello," Harry said. "And introduce you to Hermione – I don't think you've met before."

Hagrid smiled warmly under his beard. "Can't say tha' I have, though it's a pleasure 'ermione – I see Fang's taken a likin' to yeh. Misunderstood he is, but he's all heart."

"He's _gorgeous_ ," she gushed, scratching the boarhound behind his ears. "And it's wonderful to finally meet you too, Hagrid."

The half giant set down a plate of rock cakes before finally taking a seat himself. "Go on then, wha' have yeh lot been up to since I last saw yeh?"

Mostly to avoid having to eat Hagrid's rock cakes, Harry, Ron and Draco talked animatedly about their classes and assignments. Harry mentioned that he was doing very well in both Defence Against the Dark Arts and Flying, while Draco talked all about his special training with the Slytherin Quidditch team and the Nimbus Two Thousand his parents had sent him.

"Oh, and there was one other thing," Ron said.

Hagrid glanced up at the redhead. "Wha's tha'?"

"We came to warn you that the stone is in danger," Draco said innocently.

The half giant froze, dropping the rock cake he'd been holding in his large hand.

"No idea what yer talking about," he said, his voice an octave higher. He bent down to pick up the rock cake, and when he glanced back up, the four first-years were looking at him expectantly.

"It's okay Hagrid, we know," Hermione said, her voice sugary sweet. "All about the stone and Flamel."

Draco leaned in, his face etched with worry. "And we think someone is trying to steal it."

"'ogwash!" Hagrid said. Despite how cold it was outside, he looked as though he were about to start perspiring. "Now listen to me, all four of yeh – I don' know 'ow yeh found out about the stone, but tha's secret 'ogwarts business, that is."

"But Hagrid, someone's trying to steal it, we _know_ it," Harry said.

The half giant put down his rock cake. "An' I'm telling yeh yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. Tha's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel, so yeh stay away from that corridor an' yeh forget yeh ever heard about it, understand?"

The four first-years nodded dejectedly. Satisfied that they had nothing more to say on the matter, Hagrid turned around to stoke the fire.

"Fat lot of good that did us," Ron huffed a half hour later as they walked back up to the castle. "We still have no idea what the stone does."

"But we _did_ get a name," Hermione said. "Nicolas Flamel …"

"And now we know where it is, too," Draco added. "Dumbledore said that there were two places out of bounds this year – the Forbidden Forest and the third-floor corridor."

"And Hagrid told us to stay away from the corridor," Ron said.

"Right," Harry nodded. "So that's where we're going to go."

* * *

Perhaps it was because he and his friends had been so focused on figuring out everything they could about the stone, but before Draco knew it, Christmas was just around the corner. He and his fellow Slytherins awoke one morning in mid-December to find that the Great Lake had completely frozen over the windows in their common room, while outside, the grounds were covered in several feet of snow.

Despite how anxious Draco was to help Harry, he couldn't help the wave of excitement that swept over him at the thought of going home for the Christmas holidays. He'd grown to love Hogwarts and the freedom it brought, but he missed his parents dearly and was excited at the thought of seeing them again. Or at least, he was until the post arrived during breakfast one morning.

Bartemius came swooping into the hall with all the grace of a spoiled pet, though rather than carrying the usual box of sweets from Mrs. Malfoy, the eagle owl instead delivered a bundle of emerald green envelopes before helping himself to a sausage left on his master's plate. The colour immediately drained from Draco's face upon seeing the letters, and he was suddenly very glad that Harry, Ron and Hermione were running late for breakfast.

"Ah, the invitations to the Yule ball," Blaise said, feeling rather important. "I'll take those – thank you, Malfoy – here's mine, and Theo, Daphne here's yours …" He passed each invitation to its owner rather quickly, and it was only as he was handing the last one to Greg that he raised an eyebrow. "Dearie me Draco, it would appear some of your invitations are missing."

"Shut _up_ , Blaise," the blond hissed.

"Now, either your mother has made a mistake – which, let's be honest, is impossible," Blaise said quietly, completely ignoring his friend. "Or she has no idea you're friends with boy wonder, freckles and our favourite Muggleborn."

"I … I didn't know how to tell them," Draco said softly, bowing his head in shame. "I really did mean to, I just … you know how my parents are. Father especially."

Blaise sighed, his expression suddenly serious. "You're not your father, mate. You haven't tried to be for some time now, and you know it's because of them. They've changed the rest of us, too. I mean, look at me – I used to be handsome, rich and totally up myself. Now I'm handsome, rich and up myself only most of the time."

Draco couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped him, a wide grin on his face now. "You're a complete git, you know that, right?"

"Shut up, you love me," the boy laughed, before his expression turned serious once more. "Really though – tell your parents. You're going to have to do it sooner or later, you know."

"Yeah," Draco sighed. "I know."

At that moment, the three Gryffindors in question arrived for breakfast, and Draco aimed a grateful glance at his fellow Slytherins who had the tact to remove their invitations from view.

"Sorry we're late," Hermione said, her cheeks flushed. "We thought we'd have a quick look in the library for Flamel while we had a few spare minutes."

" _We_ thought no such thing," Ron huffed, immediately reaching for a bowl of scrambled eggs. "I was perfectly happy to come straight down to breakfast before we got carted off by Grindelwald here, isn't that right, Harry?"

"Mmm," was all the raven-haired boy said, his mouth already full of sausage.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Any luck?"

"No," Hermione said glumly.

Indeed, she and the rest of her friends had been searching the library for Nicolas Flamel ever since finding out his full name, because how else were they supposed to know why Voldemort wanted to find the stone so badly? The only problem was, it was hard to know where to look when they didn't know what Flamel could have done to get himself into a book, assuming he had done so at all. For all they knew, he could be a perfectly ordinary wizard who happened to be caught up in the business with Dumbledore and the stone.

"Well, we're not giving up," Daphne declared. "If Flamel knows Dumbledore then he must be important. He has to be in a book _somewhere_."

"Right," Theo said. "And we're going to find it."

At quarter past three that afternoon, the group of first-years met inside the library and, in pairs, split off in different directions just as they had done several times before. The Hogwarts library housed tens of thousands of books, and with no idea what they were looking for, Hermione had suggested it was the quickest way to cover as much ground as possible.

In the Reference section, she and Draco were scanning hundreds of book spines for any sign of the name 'Flamel'. While Hermione energetically bounced from shelf to shelf, shaking her head in frustration as she went, Draco couldn't help but watch on sadly. Throughout the day, he'd taken Blaise's advice and attempted to pen the letter to his parents that he'd been meaning to send for months. No matter what he seemed to write however, nothing sounded right, and so he'd been secretly relieved when he found out during lunch that both Harry and Ron would be staying at Hogwarts over Christmas.

That still left Hermione however, who was going home to visit her parents and would inevitably hear about the ball she wasn't invited to once everyone returned to Hogwarts after the holidays. Not only that, but it wasn't fair to her.

" _Honestly_ , you'd think there'd be an easier way to look up books on a certain subject," she huffed as she scanned yet another shelf. "I mean, we have _magic_. How hard is it to create a directory or a spell that searches for a key word or _something_ ," she glanced down at Draco then and seemed to notice the glum look on his face. "Hey, are you okay?"

The blond seemed startled for a moment before noticing the way her face was etched with worry. "Oh, yeah – sorry, I was just … thinking about how many books we have to get through," he lied. "It could take months."

Hermione's gaze relaxed then, and was instead replaced with a soft smile. "I know there's a lot to get through but … I honestly think that with all of us working together the way we are, there's nothing we can't do. And this isn't just for Harry, as much as I want to protect him. We may not yet know what that stone does, but if You-Know-Who finds it first, I can't imagine it'll mean much good for anyone. I mean, I've only just discovered this world and it's incredible, truly. And you, it _is_ your world, it's all you've ever known. We _have_ to do this."

Draco nodded and watched as she bounded towards the next set of shelves, determined as ever. As she pulled out a rather large tome and began to flick through its dusty pages, he couldn't help the way his gut seemed to twist in knots as he was overwhelmed with guilt once more. Hermione had been nothing but kind to him since they'd met, and he'd learned quickly that she was fiercely protective of her friends. She never judged anyone based on their House or blood status or ability as a witch or wizard, but rather on how kind a person was. She _knew_ how valuable friends were because, unlike him, she'd never had any before coming to Hogwarts.

Draco sighed yet again. Blaise was right – he wasn't his father. He knew now that blood status meant nothing except for perhaps the world you were raised in. Even so, customs could be learned, as both Hermione and Harry had proven. Perhaps it was time he learned to think for himself. Before he could stop himself, Draco cleared his throat.

"Hey, um …" Hermione glanced up, and he waited until she placed the book she was examining on a bench before continuing. "I know you're spending your holidays with your parents but … well, my mother hosts a ball each year at our manor, for Yule I mean. It's kind of a big deal, I guess … father knows a lot of people at the Ministry and all that. But the others are coming so it won't be too dull, and well, I was wondering if … you'd like to come too?"

Hermione looked like a fish out of water for a moment, before finding her voice. "Yes, I … well I mean I'll have to ask my mum and dad of course, but I'd love to! Only …" she hesitated a moment. "Well I've read a bit about Pureblood customs you see, and well … I'm not sure I know enough about participating in something so formal. I wouldn't know what to wear or how to address the adults. I don't even know how to _dance_."

Despite how fast his heart was beating, Draco couldn't help the smile that overcame his face. "Don't worry – when Pans and Daphne hear about this they're going to drag you off shopping, I know it. And all the customs stuff we can tell you about, and … well, I used to take dancing lessons when I was younger – mother made me, for this sort of thing. I'd be happy to teach you – I mean, only if you want."

"You … you _dance?_ " Hermione laughed, even as Draco's cheeks turned crimson. "I'm sorry Draco, I mean – yes, that would be lovely. Thank you." She gave him a mock curtsey and the blond screwed up his nose.

" _Merlin_ ,that's going to be the first thing we fix," he grinned. Hermione giggled in return, before picking up the book she'd set down and returning to where she'd left off.

As Draco began to scan the titles on the shelf beside her, he couldn't help the way his smile faltered slightly. He'd just directly defied his parents – there was no turning back now.

* * *

Before the group of first-years knew it, Saturday had arrived, and so too had the Hogwarts Express ready to take them back home. After saying goodbye to Harry and Ron, Hermione joined the Slytherins as they made their way down to the train and quickly found themselves an empty compartment. It was a tight fit, but they didn't seem to mind too much. Theo was happy to stretch out on the floor between his friends with a Quidditch magazine he'd borrowed from Draco, while Hermione sat across Greg's lap with a second-year Charms book in hand.

"What's … ' _expelliarmus_ '?" Greg asked, reading over her shoulder.

"It disarms someone, I think," Hermione said, scanning further down the chapter. "Yes, here – _'The disarming charm is a defensive spell which forces its victim to release whatever they are holding upon impact. It can also be used to reflect a spell back at its caster'_." She blinked. "That's useful."

"That's _boring_ ," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. "Salazar, it's the holidays, 'Mione. Here," she levitated a somewhat worn issue of _Witch Weekly_ towards the brunette. "Look at the dress on page thirty-two."

Hermione sniffed, but grabbed the magazine out of the air and did as she was told. The dress in question was a floor-length deep green lace number – the top half featured a jewel neckline and a lace floral pattern which ended just off the shoulders, while the bottom half was made of layered tulle.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and glanced up. "What about it?"

"What do you mean 'what about it'?" Daphne asked incredulously. "It's _gorgeous_. And it's what you're going to be wearing to the Yule ball, as soon as we can get you to Twilfitt and Tatting's for a fitting, of course."

The brunette scrutinised the picture in front of her. Her parents had returned her owl earlier in the week and given her permission to attend the event, though she hadn't given much thought to her outfit. "Isn't it a bit … much?"

"Nothing is too much for this," Pansy said.

"Especially with a ballroom full of Ministry officials and their partners to impress," Theo added. "Not to mention all of our parents."

Hermione went bug-eyed. " _What?_ "

"Oh, did I forget to mention that?" Draco smirked. He ducked as Hermione hurled the magazine at him.

"I hate you all," she muttered.

For the next two hours, Hermione was subjected to a number of lessons on pure-blood etiquette courtesy of her friends. Daphne explained how to greet adult wizards and witches ("Always offer your hand to a wizard and bow your head slightly to a witch"), while Pansy explained that she needed to carry herself with an air of superiority at all times.

" _We_ don't care that you're Muggleborn," she said, looking slightly uncomfortable. "But there'll be some people attending who do. That means you have to act like you belong there – _which you do_ – but to _their_ standards. They'll look for any excuse they can to believe that you don't, so you'll have to prove that you do."

Draco thought he saw Hermione's lower lip quiver slightly, though it was a bit hard to tell as she chose that moment to cover her face with her Charms book. When she finally lowered it, her expression looked dangerous.

"Is there a book on all this?" she asked.

Draco blinked. "There should be a few in the manor library. I'll … send them to you?"

"If you can," Hermione said, her voice far too calm. "I'll have them memorised by Tuesday."

The group seemed to collectively agree then that the etiquette lesson was over. Blaise joined Theo on the ground and began a game of Exploding Snap, while Draco and Vincent got into an argument over a foul made during the latest Quidditch League match between the Holyhead Harpies and Pride of Portree. Greg made an attempt to join in, though it was a bit difficult trying to see past Hermione who had gone back to reading her book.

At about one o'clock, the trolley witch came by their compartment, and there was a scramble as each first-year made their way into the hallway to buy Licorice Wands and Chocolate Frogs before settling back down the way they had been. Pansy resisted the urge to tell Hermione that a pure-blood lady must _nibble_ not _chew_ , and before they knew it, the view outside had morphed from wild woods, to the countryside, then to rows upon rows of houses. The group clambered over one another in their hurry to change out of their uniforms, and it was just as Millie was running a comb through her hair that the train came to a stop at platform nine and three-quarters.

"Hey, there's my parents!" Daphne said happily, pointing to rather wealthy-looking couple who were accompanied by a young girl. "And look, Astoria too!"

"There's my father," Theo said, inclining his head towards a sea of wizards and witches further down the platform.

"What about your parents, Hermione?" Vincent asked.

The brunette glanced up and down the busy platform, then frowned. "I'm not sure – either I can't see them, or maybe they had trouble getting through the barrier outside. I should probably go find them."

The group made their way into the crowded hallway and collected their trunks, and soon enough, were saying their goodbyes with promises of seeing each other later during the break. The only three who remained were Draco, Blaise and Hermione, the latter of whom was looking increasingly worried as the crowd on the platform thinned out, when they suddenly heard the _click clack_ of high heels making their way towards them. Draco turned and froze when he realised they belonged to his mother, who looked as regal as ever in a pencil dress and white fur coat. Beside her, his father carried himself with an ever-present air of superiority.

"Draco, darling," Mrs. Malfoy cooed. "It's wonderful to see you – and you too, Blaise, of course," she said, smirking as Draco's cheeks went beet red. She turned her attention towards Hermione then, who suddenly felt very small in her Muggle jeans and jumper. "Now, who might you be, my dear? Tracey – or Sally, perhaps?"

Draco looked as though he wanted to jump back on the train and ride straight back to Hogwarts. "Um, mother, father, I –"

"Neither," Hermione said, cutting him off. "I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"Granger?" Mr. Malfoy said, speaking up for the first time. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "I don't believe I recognise that name."

"That's because I'm Muggleborn, sir," Hermione said. Her voice was sugary sweet, but had an edge to it that Draco recognised only all too well.

He ignored Blaise's incredulous hiss of _'you didn't tell them!?'_ , and instead cut in before his father could comment further. "She protected me, back when we first started – and she's brilliant, really, you should see her in Charms …"

Mrs. Malfoy's expression was unreadable as she peered down at Hermione, who looked as though she were willing to trade every point she'd ever earned for Gryffindor in exchange for a way to disappear. Then suddenly, her face morphed into a soft smile. "I hope, Hermione, that Draco has invited you to our annual Yule ball?"

The brunette blinked. "Yes, he – he has, ma'am."

"Wonderful," Mrs. Malfoy beamed, "and please, call me Narcissa. Draco and I will be in Diagon Alley on Thursday to have his dress robes fitted and I insist you join us – you too, Blaise darling, of course."

Hermione, who had never gone anywhere without asking permission from her parents before, but who also suspected very few people said 'no' to Narcissa Malfoy, nodded her head.

"Splendid – I'll have Draco owl invitations to the rest of the children," Mrs. Malfoy said. "I've been told some of the girls are quite excited to have their dresses fitted and we may as well make a day of it."

Draco could do little more than aim a bewildered glance Blaise's way a moment later as he was led towards the platform's exit by his father. For a moment, his gaze shifted to a window on the Hogwarts Express behind his friends, where a young boy with dark hair remained inside staring back at him. A nagging feeling in his gut told him he'd seen the boy somewhere before, but then it was his turn to run through the barrier and the only thought on his mind was that maybe, the holidays were going to be fun after all.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy paced the length of his private study later that evening, too agitated to stand still. The revelation that, in the few months his son had attended Hogwarts, he'd become close friends with a Muggleborn – a Gryffindor no less – had him riled up in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. A single social error on his son's part, perhaps he could forgive. Only Draco had seemingly taken his mother's apparent dismissal of his friend's blood status as an invitation to confess to further foolish decisions, and admitted to being close friends not only with a member of the Weasley clan, but several other Gryffindor students including Harry Potter himself.

On the opposite side of his large oak desk, Narcissa sat with her feet crossed and tapped the wood with manicured nails, looking quite bored as she watched her husband visibly fume.

"Darling, please sit down," she said finally. "You're pouting, it's unbecoming."

Lucius scowled, though he did stop pacing. "I will not have that girl in our home."

" _Lucius_ –"

"She's of Muggle parentage, hardly a witch at all …"

"She has magic whether you like it or not," Narcissa said. "You heard the way Draco talked about her – she sounds incredibly bright and he's clearly fond of the girl."

"All the more reason to put a stop to this now," Lucius said. He leaned against the desk and shook his head. "And that _Weasley_ boy … our son making friends with Mudbloods and blood traitors … where did we go wrong, 'Cissa?"

"Perhaps," she said, rising from her seat to meet him, "it's time we changed as well."

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"The Dark Lord is dead, Lucius. Even if he were to come back …" Narcissa shook her head, "is that _really_ what you want for our son?" She watched as her husband seemed to think over her words. "Draco has sounded so happy in his letters home as of late, even if he's obviously felt the need to lie to us for fear of our reactions. I have always been proud of my heritage, but I also swore an oath to myself as a mother that I would do everything in my power to ensure our son's happiness – and if that means making certain concessions, then I will make them."

Lucius shook his head slowly. "You know as well as I that we chose a side a long time ago. If the Dark Lord isn't truly dead … he will find us, 'Cissa. And he will show no mercy, not even to a child. The Potter boy is proof of that."

"Then we must ensure that he never returns," Narcissa said at once. Her tone was steely, but there was fear in her eyes as she made her way around to the other side of the desk and rested a hand on her husband's cheek. "He entrusted you with the diary, did he not?"

Lucius leaned into the touch. "You know that he did."

"Then please, destroy it."

He shook his head once more. "There are others like it – it won't be enough."

"Then we will find them," Narcissa said, her voice softening once more. "For Draco's sake, we will find them."

* * *

 _Alternate chapter title: Or the one where a combination of bravery and cunning is terrifyingly effective, and in somewhat unrelated news, Voldy should really choose better friends._

 _For anyone interested, the dress Pansy showed Hermione can be found here:_ _pinterest_ _dot com dot au /_ _allied_hero/the-stone/_


	8. The Yule Ball

_A/N: I know, I'm sorry, this is horribly late. This chapter was such a struggle to get through, mostly because there were so many characters doing things and things happening to characters. That being said, I'm really happy with the way it turned out, so I hope it was worth the wait! As always, thank you so much for the reviews/follows/favourites. They keep me going! See the end of chapter for review replies._

* * *

At nine o'clock on Thursday morning, Hermione bounded through the moving brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron, her parents in tow. Despite having been back in the Muggle world only half a week, she'd found she missed the wonder of the wizarding world immensely and was glad to be surrounded by magic once more.

Behind her, Richard and Jean Granger couldn't help but smile fondly as their daughter rushed towards a shop window nearby which had a number of second-hand books on display. Although they had hoped to spend more time with Hermione in the lead up to Christmas, they were over the moon that she'd made friends for the first time and were hardly going to stop her from seeing them.

Hermione suddenly squeaked in delight and darted into the store, emerging a few minutes later with a rather worn-looking book featuring a faded navy cover.

"It's a book on Animagi," she gushed at her parents' questioning glance. "It's the ability to turn yourself into an animal – my Transfiguration teacher Professor McGonagall mentioned it a few weeks ago, though we're not supposed to learn more about it until third-year which is _completely_ barbaric. I mean she can't just mention something so fascinating then not talk about it for two years." She didn't notice the way her parents glanced at each other in alarm. "Anyway, I checked the library and most of the books on Animagi had been borrowed out for the holidays – oh, Blaise!"

Hermione had turned her head then and noticed the boy in question a little further up the street at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. Blaise grinned and beckoned her towards him.

"We were wondering where you were, 'Mione," he said, giving her a one-armed hug. "Here, hold this a second …" He handed over a tray containing several ice-cream cones and fished out a few coins from his pocket. "Thanks – Draco dragged the others into Quality Quidditch Supplies and I think Pans and Daph are off with Narcissa somewhere. Yours is the chocolate, by the way."

"He would." Hermione laughed knowingly, taking the offered treat with a nod of thanks. "Not that I'm not grateful, but isn't it a bit cold for ice-cream?"

Blaise grinned. "Go on, try it. They're charmed to melt in your mouth like a hot drink."

Hermione did as she was told. "It _does_!" she squeaked a moment later. She glanced back at her parents then, who had so far been observing their conversation with interest. "Sorry – Mum, dad – this is Blaise, one of the Slytherins I wrote you about."

"Ah, that's the … green house?" Mr. Granger asked, shaking the boy's hand.

Blaise briefly glanced at Hermione, and the two had to suppress snorts of laughter. "Yes sir, that's the one."

Mrs. Granger glanced at her watch, then at her husband. "We're so glad to have finally met one of Hermione's friends, though I suppose we should leave you two and your other friends to have fun." She smiled down at her daughter. "We'll see you later tonight, sweetie."

Hermione gave her parents a quick one-armed hug each before waving them goodbye and joined Blaise as they set off towards the opposite end of the large street.

"The _'green house_ '?" he scoffed once Mr and Mrs. Granger were out of earshot. "A millennium of rich history and famous alumni I've been reduced to a colour."

"Be nice," Hermione laughed as they strolled past Eyelop's Owl Emporium. "They're still learning."

Blaise sniffed, though didn't get a chance to retort as they spotted Pansy, Daphne and the rest of the Slytherin boys outside the Quidditch store a little further ahead. On the opposite side of the street, Narcissa Malfoy was sat outside a small café with a glass of red wine in hand, apparently content to sit while keeping a watchful eye on the group of first-years. In the huddle, Greg was the first to glance up and beamed when he spotted Hermione.

"We missed you!" he said, pulling her into a crushing hug. The brunette giggled as he spun her around, and was suddenly very glad she'd already finished her ice cream, for otherwise it would have ended up all over the both of them.

"I've missed you all, too," she said happily. She realised, as she hugged the rest of her friends in greeting, that she'd missed them more than perhaps the wizarding world itself. Now that she knew what it felt like to have a group of friends, she'd felt as though something had been missing without their constant company.

Narcissa was the last to greet her, having made her way over from the café, and smiled softly as she pecked Hermione on the cheek.

"It's wonderful to see you, darling. Where are your parents?"

"Oh they … well I don't think they're too comfortable in the wizarding world, you see," Hermione said, her cheeks slightly red. "They told me they didn't want to get in the way but I think they were just being nice."

The brunette thought she saw Narcissa's eyes narrow ever so slightly, but then she blinked and the older woman's expression looked as proud as ever.

"No matter," she said, batting her hand at the air. "You're to be surrounded by magic today and after you've all had your Yule robes sorted we'll return to the Manor for lunch. Draco tells me you're quite the avid reader – our library is quite vast, if I may say so. There's a number of books I believe would interest you."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "I would love that, thank you."

"Then it's settled," Narcissa smiled. "Now, why don't you children run along to Twilfitt and Tattings for me? There's some business I need to take care of first, but I'll be along in just a few minutes."

Narcissa watched for a moment as the group of first-years nodded in agreement and began to make their way further down the street, ice cream cones in hand, before turning and beginning her trek in the opposite direction. Although Diagon Alley was usually quite a busy place, particularly during school breaks, it was still relatively early and she was silently grateful that there were few people milling about the further she got towards the brick wall leading to the Leaky Cauldron.

With one last glance around, she cast a quick _silencio_ on her heels, then a disillusionment charm on herself. Satisfied that the spells had successfully taken effect, Narcissa began to make her way down Knockturn Alley.

It wasn't long before she came across the shop she was looking for. The exterior of Borgin and Burkes looked as dreary as ever, however that didn't stop her from entering the store, a soft bell chiming as the door closed behind her. The store's owner, Mr. Borgin, stood hunched behind the front counter and glanced up warily through his long, greasy hair. He jumped slightly as Narcissa removed the concealment charm, though quickly recovered.

"Ah, Mrs. Malfoy, a pleasure –"

"I haven't much time, Borgin," Narcissa said primly, striding towards him. She removed a blank piece of parchment from her purse as she reached the counter, allowing its contents to appear before him with a wave of her wand.

The shopkeeper retrieved a pince-nez and glanced down at what appeared to be a list.

"Well?" Narcissa prompted.

The man before her trembled slightly as he scanned over the contents. "What could you possibly need these items for?"

"That is none of your concern," Narcissa snapped. "All you need know is that I've come here on behalf of Lucius. He would be most displeased if I were forced to tell him you could be of no assistance, and we wouldn't want that would we, Mr. Borgin?"

He was visibly shaking now. The shopkeeper seemed to have an internal debate with himself for a few moments, before finally opening his mouth to speak. "… I've heard rumours, about the cup. That it was hidden away in a vault somewhere."

"Whose vault?"

"I do not know."

" _Liar_."

"I swear, I don't know!" Mr. Borgin insisted. He'd begun to perspire and his greasy hair now sat clumped to his forehead. "The necklace is the only item from this list I've ever laid eyes on. Caractacus bought it from a young woman years ago but it was quickly sold on. I haven't seen it since."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "And who was it sold to?"

Mr. Borgin glanced down at a dusty record book sitting underneath the counter a moment, then back up at the witch before him. "Hepzibah Smith."

* * *

It took just under two hours for the group of first-years to have their Yule robes measured and fitted. Hermione had hardly noticed the time passing, and instead had been mesmerised by the ball gown which had slowly taken shape around her. It was obvious from the store's décor that Twilfitt and Tattings was the classier alternative to Madam Malkin's, and Mr. Tatting, one of the store's owners, had wondered about from witch to wizard, charming various fabrics to pin themselves up to their new owners in preparation for sewing.

When he was finished, the older wizard had promised the group that their robes would be ready within the week, and it was only as they were leaving that Hermione sheepishly admitted to Pansy that the gown she'd picked for her was quite beautiful after all.

Her good mood continued throughout the rest of the morning and all the way back to the Manor, where she'd been taken on a brief tour through the grandest residence she'd ever seen. For all of his playful boasting, Draco had mentioned surprisingly little about his family home to her during their time so far at Hogwarts, though it seemed he'd been happy to make up for it during her journey having opted to join her.

While Narcissa guided them through elegantly styled living rooms, a drawing room, hallways which doubled as art galleries and a garden so large it rivaled the Hogwarts grounds themselves, Draco proudly went into detail about the Malfoy line and its history with the Manor.

"I had no idea you were such a history buff, Draco," Hermione teased as they made their way through a low hedge maze. "I should tell Daphne, I'm sure she'd _love_ to have someone to go into detail with about Elfric the Eager."

Draco made a face. "Do it and I'll hex you."

"I missed you too," Hermione laughed.

Lunch was a much less formal affair than she'd anticipated despite the meal taking place in one of the Manor's more elegantly designed dining rooms – though Hermione imagined that was largely due to the fact that Draco's father was away at the Ministry, much to her relief. She had been starving by the time the first course was served, though received the shock of her life as two creatures she'd never known to exist before came scurrying into the room balancing several dishes in their arms. They had large, bat-like ears, bulging eyes the size of tennis balls and appeared to be wearing pillowcases with slots for their arms and legs.

"What are they?" Hermione whispered to Theo who was sitting to her right.

"House elves," he replied. "They're usually bound to serve a family."

"They're _servants_?" the brunette hissed. "That's barbaric!"

Theo shrugged. "They like working. Dad and I have a house-elf at home too, their brand of magic is pretty powerful and can come in handy."

Hermione bristled though didn't reply, and instead made a point of thanking the elf which served her meal. The creature had become quite flustered and loudly – to her embarrassment – declared that she was a 'kind witch to Dobby' before darting back out of the room.

Despite how delicious the meal was, Hermione's thoughts repeatedly drifted towards the Manor library which so far remained a mystery to her. Narcissa had purposely avoided the room, telling the brunette that she was saving the best for last, and so it wasn't until shortly after lunch that the Malfoy matriarch led a very excited Hermione towards the far end of the Manor.

When they finally arrived, Hermione stood frozen on the threshold of two large oak doors, not caring in the least if her expression was unbecoming. The room was absolutely _beautiful_. Rows upon rows of books sat on wood stained shelves which stretched from the floor to the ceiling as far as the eye could see, while deep green plush sofas were scattered about in various nooks. The Malfoy's library was by no means as big as Hogwarts', though it was still very impressive. And, Hermione mused as Narcissa led her further into the room, their library likely housed books on topics that not even Hogwarts did.

"What are these books about?" she asked suddenly, indicating to a shelf on their left masked by a shadow she wasn't entirely sure was natural.

Narcissa's eyebrows rose a fraction – just a fraction – before her expression regained its usual sophisticated air. "Those … are perhaps best left for another time. The Ministry doesn't condone the use of certain kinds of magic. However, if what Draco tells me about you is true, then I believe you may one day have the knack and tenacity required to successfully master the content in these books."

"You mean the Dark Arts?" Hermione asked bluntly.

Narcissa tilted her head slightly. "It's the name they're given, yes, though I disagree. The Ministry views the world as black and white and while doing so fails to notice the varying shades of grey in between. No spell is inherently 'light' or 'dark' – it's the intent behind the witch or wizard using it."

Hermione knew she should be frightened – cornered in a room half way across the country from her parents with a woman who had just all but admitted to engaging in a banned practice. And yet, despite this, Hermione found herself reaching for one of the books closest to her, ignoring the way Narcissa was now observing her with an air of curiosity.

She opened the book to a random page and began reading. "This … this isn't _dark_ ," she scoffed after a few minutes. She glanced up at Narcissa. "This is just an alternative to the Severing Charm – I read about it in a second-year Charms book."

"And do you know why that Charm was invented?"

"To aid with sewing," Hermione recited at once. "It was created by Delphina Crimp, a seamstress in the fifteenth century."

"Precisely," Narcissa said. "Yes, it can maim, but it can also be very useful. Try another one."

Obliging, Hermione flipped to a page towards the back of the book. "And this – this Hex binds its victim. But that could also be very useful, if you were ever attacked or thought you were in danger …" She glanced up to find Narcissa reward her with a smile that radiated pride.

"You're a smart girl, Hermione. Inquisitive," she said. "And I don't believe a witch as bright as you should have her learning restricted due the ignorance and bias of those within the Ministry. Do you?"

The brunette glanced down at the book in her hands and shook her head. "Do you think … do you think I could come back here and read more some other time?"

Narcissa smiled softly. "Of course you can, darling. You're welcome to stay and read now if you'd like, though I believe your friends are out in the garden playing Quidditch if you'd like to join them. I'll be in my study finishing up some work, but if you need anything or get lost, feel free to call on Dobby or Mitzy."

Hermione watched as Narcissa retreated the way they had come, then turned back towards the mysterious shelf of books once more. She'd been looking forward to seeing her friends all week, but she wasn't sure when she'd be back at the Manor beyond the Yule ball. And the books contained so many new things to learn …

"Oh … just half an hour," she told herself, before grabbing a second worn-looking book from the shelf and venturing further into the library.

Hermione took three lefts and a right between several rows of books, and had just spotted a comfy looking chair by a window when she heard movement from behind another bookshelf. She frowned and peered around the corner and was surprised to find both Draco and Daphne seated on opposite sides of an oak desk, several books sprawled out between them.

"What are you two doing here?" Hermione frowned. "Your mum said everyone else was outside playing Quidditch, Draco. Why aren't you with them?"

Daphne glanced from the brunette to Draco and sighed. "She could help, you know."

"Help with what?" Hermione asked.

Draco seemed to consider his words for a moment before opening his mouth. "… on Halloween, when we found Ron in the Transfiguration classroom with the troll … it wasn't just luck finding him there."

"I did wonder how you knew where he was," Hermione admitted. "Neville told me he'd last seen him by the Great Lake that afternoon."

"Yeah well, I had this sort of …" the blond trailed off, trying to find the right words. "Honestly, I don't even know what it was … a premonition or a prophecy or _something_ but it was real, it had to be. I saw Ron cornered by the troll and … Merlin, we'd forgotten all about him, 'Mione. He could have _died_."

The brunette was alarmed to see her friend look so worried and she joined him at the desk. "It's okay, Draco. You found him and we defeated the troll and he's _fine_. We're all fine." She glanced down at the books sprawled out in front of them. "What does all this have to do with it?"

"Family trees," Daphne said. "The Malfoy line, the Blacks, the Lestranges … just about every line Draco's related to in some way going back a thousand years. I'm trying to find out if there's maybe some distant relative who was a seer."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Seers are _real_?"

"You mean to tell me that you can already recite the names of several N.E.W.T level potions but have never read about seers?" Daphne asked incredulously.

"I've never seen anything about them in any of the books I've read," the brunette shrugged, "and I haven't had a reason to go looking."

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Fair enough. Anyway, seers – actual seers – are rare, though you up your chances if you've got an ancestor who was one, like they pass on a dormant gene."

"But you don't have to have had a seer ancestor to be one though, right?" Hermione asked. "I mean the line has to start somewhere, so what if Draco is one?"

"Magic isn't as strong as it used to be. The likelihood of him being the catalyst of a new seer line is highly unlikely, and we're not having much luck with these family trees," Daphne explained.

"There's heaps of wizards and witches who pretend to be seers just to make a quick galleon," Draco added. "So if you start spouting prophecies you're basically outed as a candidate for St. Mungo's because hardly anyone is going to believe you're telling the truth."

"Right … so what do you need me for exactly?" Hermione asked.

Daphne inclined her head towards the sea of books around them. "Research. Look for any spells or enchantments that can cause hallucinations or something similar. Depending on their complexity, we might be able to recreate them to see if they were the cause."

Hermione couldn't help the small huff of laughter that escaped her. "Anything to avoid the insanity that is Vincent and Greg playing Quidditch."

While her two friends continued to pour over a millennia's worth of family trees, Hermione located several books she thought might be useful, found the comfy chair she'd spotted earlier by the window and began to read. It seemed that she would get to stay in the Manor library for the rest of the afternoon after all, a thought which made her very happy indeed.

* * *

It wasn't until a week later – during the late afternoon on Christmas Eve – that Hermione found herself back at the Manor. She alongside the rest of her friends had received owls from Twilfitt and Tatting's informing them that their robes were ready the day before, and now she, Pansy and Daphne were in one of Narcissa's many dressing rooms preparing for the ball together.

"Where's Millie and the other girls?" Hermione asked suddenly. She was sat in front of a mirror in her green ballgown while Mitzy the house elf worked on her hair. The brunette had felt awful letting the creature fuss over them the way she had and had peppered her with questions and apologies until Mitzy let out a shrill little noise – what Hermione believed to be a laugh – and reassured the girl that she enjoyed her work. Feeling somewhat better, the brunette now watched with interest as Mitzy tamed her hair with some sort of unspoken elf magic.

"Millie's in Germany with her parents," Pansy replied from her position in front of a floor-length mirror. She was wearing a pale pink long-sleeved gown – the top was soft lace peppered with tiny pink jewels, while the bottom was a slightly darker shade of satin. "And Tracey said her parents wanted her to spend the entire holidays with them. I heard it was the same deal with Sally."

"The Yule ball is about the only time each year we can force Millie into a dress, so she's probably dancing through Berlin celebrating her narrow escape right now," Daphne grinned from her place in front of a vanity mirror. She too was already in her ball gown – a beautiful white and blue floor-length dress. The top half was white lace with a jewel neckline, while the bottom half featured blue opaque tulle lined with small bows.

Hermione attempted to grin back, but was scolded by Mitzy who was now applying a touch of deep green eye shadow to her face. "That's a shame. I'm sure she'd look lovely."

"She really does," Pansy sighed. "Stubborn witch."

The three girls fell into a comfortable silence once more as they focused on getting ready, and soon after, Mitzy declared Hermione was presentable. The brunette stared at herself in the mirror, quite unable to believe the person staring back at her. The elf had managed to tame her hair into a simple half up, half down look, though instead of her curls looking like their usual wild selves, they now fell limply onto her shoulders. Her makeup also made her look a few years older than she was – the green eyeshadow brought out her large brown eyes, while a dash of blush and lip gloss made her feel like a princess in a movie. She couldn't remember ever having dressed so formally, but she found she quite liked it.

"Mitzy … _thank you_ ," she said, tearing up a little.

The elf looked very pleased with herself. "Mitzy does her job well, she does. Now … Miss Greengrass, I think Mitzy will help." She hurried towards the sandy haired girl who looked scandalised as the elf batted away the makeup she'd been attempting to apply. "None of this rubbish, Mitzy will fix you right up, she will …"

Hermione laughed as she watched Daphne pout in her chair before slipping out of the room. Just down the hall the boys were in a dressing room of their own getting ready and she made her way towards the door. Draco had promised her a dancing lesson before Winter break after all, and she hardly wanted to be seen tripping over her own feet at an event meant to prove she was just as much a witch as everyone else. Blaise was quick to answer her knock on the door and made to crack a joke about being indecent, but stopped in his tracks.

"Woah, 'Mione. You look …"

" _Hot_ ," Vincent said, joining them at the door. The two boys were already dressed in their formal robes, though Vincent's shirt was untucked and his bowtie nowhere to be seen.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Charming, Vince. Is Draco around?"

"His majesty is still busy trying to drown himself in hair product," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. He leaned forward conspiratorially and waggled his eyebrows. "But if there's anything you need that _I_ could help with …"

"Blaise!" Hermione laughed, swatting a hand at her friend. "He promised me a dance lesson, and no amount of memorised pure-blood etiquette will stop me from making a fool of myself during the waltz."

"Ah," Blaise said, taking a step back. "I'd offer to help you myself, but I like my toes attached to the rest of my feet, you see." He ducked yet another swatting hand and grinned. "I'll get the princess for you."

Hermione watched as the two boys disappeared from the door, only to be approached by Draco a few moments later. The blonde appeared to be just about ready for the ball as well, and was dressed in a very smart-looking black tuxedo with a matching knee-length jacket. The two seemed to stare at each other in silence for a moment before they both opened their mouths.

"Wow …"

"You look …"

"Dance," Hermione blurted out. She cleared her throat and tried again. "You promised to teach me to dance, Draco Malfoy, and I won't be left looking like I have two left feet because you're in love with your hair." Her tone was mockingly serious, and they were both grinning now.

Draco extended a hand to her, and in an equally ridiculous voice said, "After you, milady."

* * *

By eight o'clock that evening, the Yule ball was in full swing. While Hermione couldn't help the nervous jitters that had slowly started to creep up on her as the first few guests arrived, she'd calmed down when she realised that most people were content to socialise in their own groups. She watched with intrigue as Narcissa made her way around the room to talk to each guest with the ease of someone who had done so for most of her life, while Lucius stood in a corner with Vincent, Greg and Theo's fathers, content to keep an eye on things from afar.

Most guests had arrived within half an hour of the advertised start time, so by eight-thirty it wasn't difficult to notice when a new figure entered the room. Hermione glanced up and was surprised to see who it was.

"What's Professor Snape doing here?" she asked. This seemed to get the attention of her friends, because they all turned towards the door to see that their Potions Professor was indeed the newest arrival to the ball. Hermione was surprised to see how well he cleaned up given his usual greasy appearance – like many of the wizards in the room, he was wearing a black tuxedo with a matching tailcoat jacket. Perhaps the most surprising change however, was that his hair was tied back.

"Is it weird that I find him strangely attractive right now?" Pansy asked. Daphne, who had taken a sip of fruit punch, snorted it right back into her cup.

"I didn't know Snape knew your father, Draco," Theo said. The group watched as their Potions Professor said something to Lucius, who smirked in response.

The blond frowned. "Neither did I."

Suddenly, the men in question glanced over at the group of first-years who looked terribly obvious as they shifted their gazes to other areas of the ballroom. Draco risked glancing back and noticed Snape heading towards them, but was saved when a slow waltz began to play. Seizing the opportunity to escape, he grabbed a startled Hermione's hand and led her to the center of the room.

"What are you doing?" she hissed as Draco began to lead them through the tune. Although they'd had a few hours to practice, Hermione hadn't picked it up as quickly as she'd wished to and had secretly hoped that she would be able to avoid dancing altogether.

"Saving you from the inevitable grilling you'd get from Snape," the blond replied matter-of-factly. He morphed his expression into a likeness of the Potion Master's and spoke in a terrible impression of the man. "Miss Granger, please explain how you managed to coerce these members of my illustrious house into mingling with the dunderheaded Gryffindors you call friends. And I expect fourteen inches of parchment on the side effects of this dreadful music by tomorrow morning."

Hermione resisted the urge to let out a bark of laughter and instead giggled softly. "Oh, he's not that bad!"

"I know," Draco grinned as he guided her around another couple, though his expression faltered slightly. "Weird, though – a lot of the older students in my house have said that he seems different this year."

"Funny you should mention that," Hermione replied. "Ron's brothers said something like that too."

The music came to a stop then and the brunette curtsied – a far cry better than the attempt she'd made before the holidays – and allowed Draco to take her hand again. She glanced around then and noticed several pairs of eyes on them both, and suddenly felt rather like entertainment at a circus.

"I need some air, I think," she said suddenly.

Draco nodded. "These events can be a bit much for me, too. Let's go."

Ignoring the way Snape's eyes followed them, the two first-years made their way out of the ballroom. Rather than heading for the garden however, Hermione took the lead and began trekking further into the Manor. It didn't take long for Draco to figure out where she was guiding them, and before long, the two friends entered the Manor library. Hermione continued to walk until she reached the mysterious shelf of books from the week before where she finally stopped. Draco soon reached her and did the same.

"Did mother tell you about these?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "She said that nothing was pure Light or Dark. Did you know about them?"

"I _do_ live here," Draco grinned. "But she said she wouldn't teach me until I was older. I think she's scared that I'd accidentally tell someone about them. We could get into trouble, you know." He paused. "Most of these books are super mild, anyway. The _really_ questionable stuff is hidden away somewhere – don't tell anyone I told you that, by the way. The Ministry does raids, you see, trying to catch us with things like this. Mother thinks that if we leave books like these lying around for them to take away then they won't bother trying to find the other stuff."

"She's clever, your mum," Hermione said. "What do you think about all this? The Dark Arts, I mean."

Draco shrugged. "Magic is magic and knowledge is power. The more you know, the more powerful a witch or wizard you become. I'm not going to shy away from learning something just because someone says I can't." He smiled wryly. "And I doubt that you would, either."

"You know me well," the brunette said, smiling back. She studied the texts in front of her for a few minutes, the two friends content to keep each other company in silence, when a rather worn-looking book caught her eye. "This wasn't here last week …"

Curious, she carefully removed the book from its place on the shelf. Though many of the books among it were also quite old, it was clear that care had been taken with them and magic used to preserve them. This one however looked particularly neglected, and she did her best not to harm its fraying pages any further as she handled it. Opening the book's front cover, which had bared the title 'Albertus Magnus', Hermione suddenly stilled. In the center of the inside cover was a message written in neat, loopy handwriting:

 ** _To my mentor and friend,_**

 ** _I hope this text does your life justice, as you brought so much joy to mine. If even one other from Wizardkind can appreciate this tale of your life, then I have hope for a future where magical and non-magical beings may live in peace once more._**

 ** _Nicolas Flamel_**

"Oh my God," Hermione whispered.

Draco, who had been reading over her shoulder looked equally stunned. "'Mione … you did it. We've found him."

* * *

Sitting on his bed in the first-year Gryffindor boys' dormitory, Harry couldn't quite believe just how much he wished for the Christmas holidays to be over given how excited he'd been for them to begin in the first place. And yet, this was exactly what he found himself thinking as he re-read one of the many letters he'd received throughout the two-week break.

Less than a week before on Christmas morning, Bartemius had swooped into the Great Hall and delivered what appeared to be a very hastily written letter from Hermione. Amongst several ink splotches and increasingly erratic-looking handwriting, she'd told them that she'd found Nicolas Flamel's name in a book in the Malfoy's private library. What followed was a series of chain letters between the Gryffindor trio and their Slytherin friends, all trying to work out how a man apparently born during the 13th century was still alive.

The group hadn't had any luck throughout the rest of the holidays, and so Harry was almost giddy with excitement when his friends returned the day before classes were due to resume, Hermione clutching a book tightly in her hands claiming to have found the answer.

"It's called the _Philosopher's_ stone," she said excitedly. The group of first-years were rugged up in scarves and beanies and huddled together near the Quidditch pitch away from prying ears, though by the looks on their faces, had no idea what Hermione was talking about. She huffed, opened the book she was clutching and began to flip through its pages.

"I found Flamel's name in a book about Albertus Magnus, who was a Muggle priest. The message inside indicated they had been friends, and yet I'd never heard of his name before in any Muggle history books," she said. "Then I started thinking about what you said the other week about Seers, Daph. They're a Muggle myth, and yet despite knowing magic exists, I still believed that particular fact to be true until you told me it wasn't. Which got me thinking about Muggle myths in general. Then I found this in the library near my house …"

She finally found the page she was looking for and turned the book around for her friends to see. At the top of the page in bold letters was the name 'Thomas Aquinas'.

"' _According to legend, Albertus Magnus is said to have discovered the Philosopher's Stone and passed it onto his pupil Thomas Aquinas shortly before his death'_ ," Ron read aloud. "' _The Stone is said to be the most sought-after goal of alchemy, capable of turning base metals into gold. It is also known as the elixir of life, used in legend to achieve immortality'_."

For a few moments, the only sound the group could hear was the chilly morning air rattling the Quidditch stands nearby. Daphne was the first to break the silence.

"The Headmaster has a twelve-year-old boy guarding the _elixir of life_ … Merlin, is he _insane_?"

"No wonder the Dark Lord is after it," Theo added, "and if he finds it …"

"He'll come back," Harry finished quietly. His gaze was on the ground beneath them and his jaw clenched tight.

"So we do what we said we'd do," Draco said, determined. "We steal it and get rid of the stupid thing, like the old coot should have done in the first place."

The group nodded in fierce agreement as a particularly cold gust of wind blew against their backs. As they huddled that much closer together, not even Ron had the heart to tell Draco off for insulting Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

Within a few weeks, the semester was in full swing. During their discussion before the beginning of term, Draco had declared that the first thing they needed to do was figure out what exactly sat behind the third-floor corridor door so that they didn't die a 'very painful death'. Unfortunately, the teachers had wasted no time in piling up homework and assignments which left few spare moments for research. Draco had even less time than the rest of his friends, as Marcus Flint had told him on the second day of term that he wanted him training with the Slytherin team on a weekly basis for the remainder of the school year.

It was after training on a particularly miserable Saturday morning that Blaise joined the blond on his way back to the Slytherin dormitories.

"'Mione's got an idea."

Draco, still half asleep, grunted.

"The keyholes in most of the doors around the castle are a few hundred years old, right," Blaise continued, ignoring his friend's plight. "She said she read about a spell that can make things bigger – if we cast it on the keyhole of the door to the third-floor corridor, we can have a look at what's inside without, you know, dying."

Draco grunted again, this time in agreement. "We can try tonight. We'll need Harry's cloak, though."

"No dice," Blaise said. "It's a second-year spell, she doesn't know how to cast it."

The blond raised an eyebrow, suddenly slightly more awake. "Since when has that stopped her?"

"Apparently this one needs proper tutelage or it can be dangerous or something," Blaise shrugged.

"… so you came all the way over here just to tell me about a plan we can't actually use?" Draco muttered.

"No, mostly to watch you suffer," Blaise grinned, narrowly missing his friend's swatting hand. " _And_ to ask you if there happen to be any families of older students that owe yours at the moment."

Draco shook his head. "Not that I know of, unless father's kept it from me." He inclined his head back towards the Quidditch pitch. "What about Flint?"

"Are you _nuts_?" Blaise scoffed. "He's a Prefect and has no idea why we're doing this, he'd sooner report us to the headmaster himself."

"Well who else can we trust, then?" Draco asked. "We hardly know any older students except for a few from our own House, and none of them would be stupid enough to risk getting caught trying to help us. Assuming they don't rat on us for our own good first."

Their conversation had carried them over the training grounds and towards the main entrance to the castle where the smell of freshly cooked pancakes and maple syrup was drifting out of the Great Hall. Draco's stomach rumbled loudly and he was just about to declare the problem one which they'd figure out later, when the Gryffindor Quidditch team emerged from the castle. Their captain, Oliver Wood, was determinedly avoiding their gaze as he headed towards the Quidditch pitch, though it wasn't the fifth-year boy who Draco noticed. Rather, it was the two red headed twins bringing up the team's rear who were currently trying to charm said Captain's robes pink that gained his attention.

He glanced at the twins, then at Blaise, who immediately realised what his friend was suggesting.

" _Them_?"

"Well go on then, did you have a better idea?" Draco asked, lowering his voice as they passed the team and crossed into the Entrance Hall. When his friend didn't reply, he continued. "They break more rules than everyone in this school combined, plus they're Weasleys. If that family were any more Light, Kettleburn would mistake them for Hinkypunks."

"I don't know, the obnoxious red hair kind of gives it awa –"

" _Blaise_."

" _Fine_ ," the boy muttered. They'd reached the Great Hall now, and he inclined his head towards the end of the Slytherin table where most of their band of friends were already having breakfast. "But you're asking Ron."

"Coward."

Blaise grinned. "And proud."

Ron, to no one's surprise, was adamantly against the idea of asking Fred and George for help of any kind. He rattled off several reasons why it was a terrible idea, most of them relating to an incident involving the twins and a giant spider when he was five years old. Hermione had retorted with the fact that without the twins' help, Voldemort might well come back, thank you very much, and the redhead had finally caved before going back to eating his pancakes.

And so, two nights later, Harry, Ron and Hermione found themselves awake far later than usual. By this point in the year it was clear to even the first-years that the Weasley twins had no idea what a decent bed time was, and so the trio had decided that waiting until the rest of Gryffindor house retired for the night was the best opportunity they'd get to talk to Fred and George alone. They got their chance when finally, just after half past midnight, a seventh-year girl left her place by the fire and disappeared up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, much to the relief of Ron who had almost fallen asleep against Hermione's shoulder.

"Didn't mum ever tell you it's rude to spy on people, ickle Ronniekins?" Fred suddenly called out in a sing song voice. He hadn't taken his eye off the game of Wizard's chess in front of him, an apparent evening ritual between himself and his twin.

From half way across the room, Ron scowled, suddenly very much awake. "We weren't _spying_. We were waiting for everyone else to bugger off."

"We needed to talk to you – alone," Hermione said quickly, if anything to stop Ron from getting into an argument with his brothers. She extracted the redhead from her shoulder and joined the twins by their place near the fire. "We need your help."

George glanced up from the board in front of him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"The door to the third-floor corridor," Hermione continued bluntly. "We need to find out what's behind it."

Fred glanced over at Ron, raising an eyebrow of his own. "I had no idea you wanted to live up to our trouble-making reputation so badly."

"Oh come off it," Ron huffed, making his way towards the group with Harry on his tail. "Look, I know you're not going to believe me, but –"

"Voldemort's back," Hermione said abruptly. The trio held their breaths as they watched the twins' playful smirks morph into frowns.

"Don't say his name so loud," George said, his voice low, "and why would you think that? He's dead – Harry killed him."

The boy in question shook his head. "I overheard Dumbledore talking to someone about him, like he's still around. Apparently he's searching for something hidden in the school, the Philosopher's Stone –"

"– the elixir of life –" Ron added.

"– and it's hidden somewhere in the third-floor corridor," Hermione said. "If he finds it, he'll come back and we can't let that happen."

"So, we're going to steal it first," Ron declared. Although George appeared as though he were going to be sick, Fred looked uncharacteristically proud of his little brother, who puffed his chest out just a little.

"Harry heard Dumbledore talking about defenses protecting the stone," Hermione explained. "I read about two charms – one that can make things bigger and the other, smaller. We need you to cast them on the keyhole of the door leading into the corridor so we can get a look inside and see what we're up against."

"Oh, that's easy," Fred said. "But getting close enough to the third-floor corridor to do it is a bit of a stretch on our talents, I'm afraid."

"Trust us, we've tried," George added. "We've been curious about what's behind that door too, you know. But we swear Filch has been living in that corridor this year. Every spare chance we've had to look he's been stalking about down there – and if it's not him, it's that stupid cat of his."

"That won't be a problem for us," Ron said smugly, apparently pleased to know something his brothers didn't. He glanced at Harry, who sighed.

"I … have an Invisibility Cloak."

The twins grinned, identical devil-may-care grins that had undoubtedly got them into trouble more than once before. " _Brilliant_."

* * *

The Gryffindor quintet decided to wait until the following Friday evening to venture out to the third-floor corridor. The end of the school week was when patrols were at their slackest, Fred and George had explained, and although they had the Invisibility Cloak, the five of them under it at once would make maneuvering about difficult. They needed as much free reign around the castle as possible.

The group waited until the last Gryffindor in the common room – a rather snooty-looking sixth-year boy – finally retired for the night at a quarter to one, before donning the Invisibility Cloak and stepping outside the portrait hole. Although they had anticipated a bit of trouble moving about as a group, they quickly realised just how difficult it would actually be, and they struggled to walk in unison while remaining silent and hidden at the same time.

"Stop knocking into me, George!" Ron hissed as they made their way through the hallway with the oil paintings.

"You're stepping on my toes, Ronald!" Hermione had whispered furiously as they descended a flight of stairs.

"A little louder you two, Peeves didn't hear you," Fred retorted mockingly. This seemed to silence the bickering first-years, because they said nothing more the rest of the way down to the third-floor corridor.

Finally, very annoyed and somewhat out of breath, the group approached the door leading to the forbidden corridor. They shuffled around under the cloak until the twins were closest to the front, where Fred stuck out his wand arm and pointed at the keyhole.

" _Engorgio_ ," he whispered.

At once, the keyhole began to grow bigger and bigger. He kept his wand pointed at the door until the hole was about the size of their heads, before ending the spell.

"Well?" Ron whispered, when nothing happened. "Go on then, Harry. Take a look."

The raven-haired boy rolled his eyes but did as he was told. Peering out from underneath the Invisibility Cloak, he squinted, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the dark room. "I think … I think I hear breathing," he said, furrowing his brows. He moved his head closer to the keyhole. "No, I _definitely_ hear br –"

Harry jumped back at once as the door suddenly rattled violently from the inside, followed by a deep, menacing growl. Where the keyhole was empty moments before, something giant, wet and black was now pressed up against it. Ron and Hermione screamed.

" _What–the–bloody–hell–is–that_?" Ron squeaked as the door rattled again. Whatever was inside seemed to be trying to ram the door open and the group collectively backed away.

"I think," George said, his gaze fixed on the door, "that we should get out of here."

"Before Filch shows up, preferably," Fred added as his twin reduced the keyhole back to its original size with a flick of his wand. Whatever was inside was now ramming against the door so loudly that there was no way even the furthest inhabitant of the castle hadn't heard them.

The group huddled together and began to shuffle back the way they came. They had barely moved a few steps however, when a new sound froze them in their tracks.

"Sniff around, my sweet. They can't be far."

At once, all five pairs of eyes were as wide as saucers.

"It's _Filch_ ," Hermione mouthed, panic beginning to set in. Oh, why had she suggested something so risky? The corridor was narrow and now they were going to get caught and they'd all get into trouble and it was all her fault …

Fred's arm on hers pulled her out of her thoughts and she glanced up – he was motioning for her, Harry and Ron to flatten themselves against the wall and they silently did as they were told as Filch wandered closer. Another loud _bang_ against the third-floor corridor door almost made Ron jump, though Filch, who was wondering right past them now, didn't seem phased.

"Shame, it is, keeping that creature locked up," they heard him muttering to himself. "What I wouldn't give to let it loose on those troublemakers, it would straighten them right up, a Cerberus would. Oh, how I miss the old punishments. Students strung up by their thumbs, crying out for mercy …"

It seemed Mrs. Norris couldn't see through the Invisibility Cloak after all, for after a minute of looking about and a _hiss_ directed at the door, she turned and began moving back the way she and her master had come. Filch followed soon after, muttering something about Peeves and several curse words as he went. The five Gryffindors didn't dare move until they were sure the caretaker was gone.

"That was _way_ too close," Hermione whispered, breathing a sigh of relief.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping whatever that _thing_ is," Ron said, as the door shook once more, "locked up in a school?"

"A Cerberus," George said. "That's what Filch said."

"What, you mean like the mythical three-headed dog?" Hermione whispered incredulously.

"They're real, but yes," Fred said. "Though they're really rare. I wonder where they found one."

"Excuse me," Harry said, as the door shook yet again, "but I'd really like to get out of here."

"I'm with you," Ron said at once. "Absolutely barmy, keeping something like that in a school …"

The group shuffled their way back to the Grand Staircase in relative silence, the trek made a little easier now that they had gotten the hang of walking in unison. Filch must have run off in search of Peeves someplace else in the castle, because they didn't see him at all as they climbed the first flight of stairs back up to Gryffindor tower, not that they cared. It was just as they began to climb a second flight that Harry froze in his tracks, nearly causing Hermione to barrel right into him.

"What on earth are you doing?" she hissed. But Harry wasn't listening – instead, his gaze was fixed on the Grand Entranceway below them. The brunette turned to see what had gained his attention so suddenly and was surprised to see a boy about their age walking about, apparently with no fear of getting caught.

"That's him!" Harry whispered urgently as the boy disappeared in the direction of the dungeons. "That's the boy I saw with Dumbledore!"

" _Him_?" Hermione said. "But I've spoken to him before!"

Harry's eyes went wide. "You have?"

"On the Hogwarts Express on our very first day," the brunette explained. "When I was trying to help Neville find his toad, he pointed you out, Ron. He told me you were good with animals and could help."

Ron raised an eyebrow. " _Me_? So _that's_ why you wanted my help so much. I was on my way to Harry's compartment when you practically dragged me away."

"I remember that," Hermione grinned. "But I've seen the way you treat Scabbers – you most certainly aren't an animal person." She frowned then. "So why did he say you were?"

Ron shrugged. "Who knows."

As the group of five resumed their trek back up to the Gryffindor common room, Harry could think only of the mysterious raven-haired boy. Who was he? Why did Dumbledore seem to trust him so much? And why was it that he seemed to appear wherever they went, yet had proven to be so elusive at the same time?

* * *

 _Alternative chapter title: Or the one where Hermione is practically adopted by Narcissa Malfoy, and Harry is like 5000% done with this mystery boy's shit._

 _For anyone interested, Pansy and Daphne's dresses can be found here: pinterest dot com dot au /_ _allied_hero/the-stone/_

 _…_

 _A/N: Review replies (because I don't have time to reply to each person individually, but it's far easier to do it here!)_

 _Nadasnape:_ _She's going to play a big part in things to come ;) |_ _Coronari:_ _Thank you! |_ _Guest:_ _Thank you so much! It's my favourite part about finally finishing another chapter :-) |_ _EmJelenKoala:_ _Dude I spat out my drink reading your review I died laughing :') (also, thank you so much for continuing to support this story! I really look forward to reading your reviews!) |_ _TheOneWhoMustNotBeNamed:_ _She totally is! Really disappointed she didn't get more face time in the books._

 _Figured I'd separate this one because other readers might be interested in the answer:_

 _Guest asked: Can you clarify which pairings you are aiming for in the future?_

 _The short answer is that I'm not entirely sure yet. As you could probably tell from this chapter, there were hints of Hermione/Draco, but that doesn't mean it'll go anywhere/be endgame. At the moment most of the characters I'm focusing on are still 11 so there won't be anything definitive for a few years yet. That being said, here's some possible pairings I've thrown around in my head for future books:_

 _\- Fred/Hermione_

 _\- Fred/Hermione/George_

 _\- Hermione/Draco_

 _\- Hermione/literally any of the Slytherin boys she's grown close to so far in this series (I'm very indecisive with Hermione, please send help)_

 _\- Ron/Pansy_

 _\- Ron/Theo_

 _\- Harry/?_

 _If anyone takes a particular fancy to a pairing on this list or has a suggestion of their own, please let me know in a review!_


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